Cupcakes
by Worryingly Innocent
Summary: AU. Following on from 'Carrot Cake', a series of one-shots charting the further adventures of Gold and Belle as they continue to live, love and generally get to know each other. Mainly romance and mainly Rumbelle, occasionally other characters will pop up demanding attention…
1. Mohnkuchen

**Summary: **AU. Following on from 'Carrot Cake', a series of one-shots charting the further adventures of Gold and Belle as they continue to live, love and generally get to know each other. Mainly romance and mainly Rumbelle, occasionally other characters will pop up demanding attention…

**Disclaimer: **Alas, I do not own Once Upon A Time. I do, however, finally own the S1 DVD. Yay!

**A Note Before We Begin:** These tales are based on the AU established in 'Carrot Cake', so things will probably make more sense if you read that first. I welcome suggestions, so if there is a particular scene you'd like to see, please do drop me an email or PM. I do request that suggestions remain T rated and stick to the pairings established in the AU, please. (A full list can be found on my profile if you aren't sure.)

So, without further ado, WI presents…

**Cupcakes**

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**Note: ** This scenario was requested by several reviewers, so I thought I'd better make it the first chapter!

**Summary: **Moe French and Mr Gold meet for the first time, purely by chance.

* * *

**German Poppy Seed Cake (Mohnkuchen)**

Moe French had been having a comparatively good day until the van had decided to die on him. He was delivering (or, at least, he was _meant_ to be delivering) a large order to a hotel in the town centre who were handling a wedding at the weekend, and his Belle had promised to drop in and see him after she'd signed her paperwork. There was even the possibility of sizing up her new man, but Belle had said that it was a bit early for meeting the parents and she didn't want Moe scaring him off.

Which was a shame, because Moe quite enjoyed watching Belle's boyfriends sweat whilst he scrutinised them with secateurs in hand, ready to snip.

If he couldn't get the van started, however… He kicked the front nearside tire but all that succeeded in doing was making him stub his toe and let out a few choice words telling the van exactly what he thought of it. A couple of passers-by muttered their disapproval at his language under their breath.

The van had been his old faithful for as long as Moe could remember, but it was now very old, and he was now rapidly losing faith in it. With a sigh, he opened up the bonnet. The battery was probably flat again. That was happening with an alarming regularity. Moe couldn't understand it; where did the power _go_ for crying out loud? He prodded about a bit, trying to work out what was wrong and how he could fix it, if it could even be fixed without having to call out the mechanic.

Moe sighed and went to the door of the shop.

"Brenda!" he called.

"Yes boss?" came the reply.

"Can you find me a wrench?"

"Why would you have a _wrench_ in a _flower shop_?"

"I don't know, can you just find me one please?"

He returned to the van so that he didn't have to listen to Brenda grumbling about going above and beyond the call of duty, finding wrenches when she was only paid to work the till and water the plants. On the one hand, having Brenda as an assistant was a blessing, as Moe knew that he could leave _Game of Thorns_ in her capable hands whilst he made deliveries. On the other hand, she would ask him inane questions… He was sure he had a wrench somewhere in the back room…

"Here you go." Brenda came out of the shop with the wrench. "Honestly, the things I do."

"Thank you, Brenda." Moe sighed and began tapping the various visible pieces of the engine with the wrench. He wasn't the world's best mechanic, but he was enough of a petrol-head to know how to change a spark plug and measure the oil, and that was more than some people. Besides, if he was holding a wrench, then passers-by would think that he was attempting to fix the van, rather than waiting next to it like a lemon for the real mechanic. Moe frowned as his tentative tapping didn't yield any results. It was definitely the battery.

He was still pondering whether or not to call the garage, who would undoubtedly charge him a small fortune for the privilege of having his van started, when he heard a car pull up behind him, the driver's door open and shut and the incredibly annoying beep of central locking.

"Excuse me."

Moe turned to face the man. "Can I help you?"

"How long can I park here for?"

"Half an hour free, no return within three hours," Moe intoned. He'd had more than enough run-ins with the particularly nasty traffic warden who controlled the parking spaces outside his shop when the woman simply would not accept his parking permit and kept trying to slap fines on him for leaving his van somewhere it shouldn't be. That the Transit was emblazoned with the same name as the shop had somehow been overlooked.

The newcomer looked from _Game of Thorns_ to his car and back again.

"That should be enough time," he said, but he didn't sound too sure of himself. Moe chuckled.

"She's hard to buy for?"

"You have no idea." The man sighed. "I've never been more terrified of buying a woman flowers in my life."

"Right." Moe hit the battery with the wrench. Nothing happened so he tried again slightly harder. "So she's either allergic to just about everything or incredibly picky. I have one customer who orders her flowers to match the curtains."

"It's not that. She reads into everything, knows what all the flowers mean. I don't want to accidentally tell her I hate her."

Moe hit the battery for a third time, sending the wrench flying out of his hand and sailing past his prospective customer onto the pavement.

"Well, I'm not all that clued up on them, I just make sure they're fed and watered and sold," he said, rushing to retrieve the tool. "Erm… Not poppies. They're something to do with death, oblivion, eternal sleep, bad stuff like that. And not balsamine and lime-blossom together, they mean 'I can't wait to get into bed with you'. Or is that marigold and apple-blossom? Best steer clear of all of them."

"Ok… Oh screw it, I'll get her a pot plant."

"Not basil. That's eternal hatred. And I believe sweet marjoram is pregnancy and birth, so she might get the wrong impression." Moe shrugged. "My daughter's the one to ask really, she can reel them off. But definitely not poppies."

He hit the engine again but it was still to no avail.

"Are you having trouble?" The other man came up beside him.

"I think it's the battery." Moe sighed. "Do you know anything about engines?"

"Nope. Not a thing. It's a shame the 'turn it off and on again' rule doesn't work for cars." He looked back at the black BMW he'd just parked. "I love her, but she's been more trouble than she's worth sometimes."

"Really? I'd heard the 3-series was really quite reliable."

"It is, for the most part. But when there's a problem, there's a big problem." He shrugged. "I think cars just don't like me."

"Well, this van doesn't like me at the moment." Moe tossed the wrench into the passenger seat. "I'll let you get on. Doesn't do to be holding up custom, after all. Brenda can probably help you with the hidden meanings. Actually, on second thoughts, if you've got a minute…"

Moe looked from the BMW to the Transit and back again. The other driver raised an eyebrow.

"Would you like a jump-start?" he asked plainly.

"Well…"

"Don't worry, I've learned to read people very well in my line of work."

"What's that then?"

"I'm a solicitor," the other driver said as he walked back towards his car to open the bonnet. "Have you got jump-leads?"

It was in that moment that Moe started to wonder. Solicitor, Scottish accent, limp…

"Well, this is cosy. I thought I said we weren't going to do a 'meet the parents ' today?"

Belle was standing on the pavement outside the shop, with a patented expression of amusement on her face.

"Hi love," Moe said brightly.

The BMW driver looked from Belle to Moe, then back at Belle, then down at his car, then back at Moe, then planted his face in one hand.

"I don't believe it," he muttered.

Belle was nearly crying with laughter, and thereby doing nothing to make the situation any easier.

"What's going on out there?" Brenda's voice came out of the shop, and even though he couldn't see her, Moe could tell she had her hands on her hips. "You're scaring away all the customers!"

"Hello, Brenda," Belle called. "Don't worry, we'll tell you later."

"Brenda, be a dear, find me some jump-leads, please," Moe called.

"Why do you have JUMP-LEADS in a FLOWER SHOP? All right, all right, I'm looking."

Belle came over and patted her boyfriend – he was more of a man-friend, really – on the shoulder and he looked up at her.

"I swear I didn't realise," he murmured.

"I know. Dad probably didn't either, since he hasn't broken out his shears. But since you're both here, we may as well do a formal introduction." She hooked her arm through his and pulled him back over to Moe. "Gold, this is my dad, Dad, this is Gold."

"Pleased to meet you."

They shook hands, and Moe decided against going and getting his secateurs. The mortified look on Gold's face was enough. Belle stepped into the awkward silence and began to tell them how her meeting with the lawyers round the corner had gone.

"Right, I've found your blinking jump-leads, now…" Brenda came out of the shop tangled up in wires and stopped on seeing Belle and Gold. "You must be the mysterious Mr Gold-with-no-first-name," she said, taking a few steps closer. "You know, I think that's very… enigmatic… Like James Bond. Except he was called James, obviously…"

Gold took a minute step backwards towards the safety of the BMW.

"Brenda, stop flirting, you're scaring him and he's traumatised enough as it is," Belle scolded. "Right, let's get this van started so Dad can go and deliver, Brenda can go and tend to her pet Venus flytrap…"

"It's nearly four inches tall now!" Brenda said proudly.

"…And you can go and buy me some flowers, as was probably your original intention. I think some pink roses and iris would be particularly appropriate today."

Moe busied himself untangling Brenda from the jump-leads, watching his daughter and her man out of the corner of his eye.

"So what precisely do pink rose and iris mean?" Gold was asking.

Belle was grinning. "Oh, I'll tell you later. I can't believe you met my dad without realising. I told you our shop was called _Game of Thorns_, I'm sure I did."

"Yes, well… "

"You've seen a picture of him!"

"Once!"

Moe smiled as they continued their banter. He had a good feeling about this one.

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**In case anyone was wondering, pink rose means 'desire' and iris means 'good news'.  
**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the first cupcake!  
**


	2. Angel Cake

**Note: **Thank you for the amazing reception to the first cupcake, and thanks to the guest reviewers! I've officially started Christmas today - I opened my advent calendar a day late and watched the Muppets' Christmas Carol... So in honour of the occasion, have a Christmassy cupcake. Hopefully it won't be the last!

**Summary: **The first time Gold tells Belle he loves her, suggested by **Sunshine1977**.

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**Angel Cake**

"Ruby! Ruby! Ruby!"

"Yes? Yes? Yes?"

Belle rushed behind the kitchen partition, her tinsel halo slipping down around her ears and her glittery wings fluttering dangerously close to the stack of cups that Ruby was washing up.

"Ruby, it's snowing!"

"I know. I saw it ten minutes ago."

"But don't you see what this means? We're going to have a white Christmas!"

Ruby looked up from the sink and surveyed Belle sagely from under her Santa hat. It was the twenty-third of December, and the last working day before the café closed until the New Year. In honour of the occasion, the staff had decided to dress up in a festive fashion. Ruby had dusted off her Mrs Claus outfit, Belle had realised a childhood dream and was doing a passable impression of a Christmas tree angel, and both girls were most disappointed in August, whose sole concession to the seasonal spirit was a pair of reindeer antlers.

"Belle," Ruby said, "we will not have a white Christmas. We hardly ever have a white Christmas in this country. You've been here long enough to know that. The snow isn't even settling, it's just making everything cold and wet."

Belle pouted. "I don't care." She grinned as a thought came to her. "Ruby, I'm going to take my break now."

Ruby's eyes narrowed.

"What are you planning?" she asked.

Belle sighed. "It's silly really, but I've always wanted to walk in the first snow with someone I lo… someone special." It had been nearly two months and they hadn't actually said the L-word, although Belle was definitely thinking it. She had yet to tell Ruby that she was now certain that this was definitely a relationship that could, and would, go the distance; that in Belle's eyes at least, it was true love.

Ruby rolled her eyes. The café was busy, but not unusually so, and August was there to help out as well.

"Well, if you want to get cold and wet, that's your problem. Bear in mind Gold might be busy, though. It's still only half-past four."

Annoyingly, Ruby was right. Belle shook her head as she took her wings off in order to put her coat on. She wondered whether or not to re-don the wings (ninety-nine pence from the post office) before deciding that it was Christmas and a time for being jolly and wearing wings. She pulled them on again and rushed out of the café door, waving back at Ruby and August.

Belle opened the door of the solicitors' office opposite. She should probably have phoned Gold to check he was free first, but all such thoughts were banished when she saw the scene unfolding in reception. There was a man leaning over the desk with his lips locked against Kathryn's, the latter holding a sprig of mistletoe over their heads. She saw Belle out of the corner of her eye and pulled away with a muted squeak.

"Oh, it's only you, Belle." Kathryn gave an embarrassed cough. "This is my boyfriend, Jim."

"Merry Christmas." Belle was trying very hard to keep a straight face, but her efforts were in vain when Kathryn's brow furrowed.

"Belle, why are you wearing tinsel and wings?"

"It's a long story. Is Gold free?"

"Hang on." Kathryn sat back down behind her desk and picked up the phone. "Hello, Mr Gold. Are you free? Excellent." She hung up and nodded towards the stairs. "You can go on up."

Belle headed for the stairs, but before she could ascend, she had to step aside to allow Jefferson to come down.

"Can't stop, I'm taking Grace to the carol service and I'm already late. Happy Christmas and a very merry New Year!" He was halfway out of the door when he turned back, pulled a little wrapped package out of his coat pocket and put it on Kathryn's desk. "Thanks for a great first year here, love." He kissed her cheek without making contact and sprinted out of the door, jamming his hat on his head.

Kathryn raised her eyebrows. "Well, I've certainly been showered with gifts today. Never let it be said that my line of work is not rewarding."

Belle left her and Jim and went up the stairs towards Gold's office. Dawn was on the phone but waved as Belle passed her desk. The other two desks in the open office were empty.

"Well, hello there." Belle saw Gold standing in his office doorway, smiling in a very inviting manner, but the smile soon dropped into an expression of perplexity. "Why are you wearing tinsel and wings?"

"Because I'm an angel," Belle said, her tone completely matter of fact. "Come on, get your coat. We're going out."

"I'm working, Belle."

"Yes, well, technically I'm working too. And you can't be working _that_ hard, it's your last day of business before Christmas."

"All right. Where are we going and why are we going there?"

"We're going out, and we're going there because it's snowing."

"It is?" Gold came out into the main office and peered around the blind that covered the window.

"You can't tell me you've been so engrossed in your work that you haven't looked out of your window," Belle said, folding her arms.

"My window looks out over the precinct," Gold pointed out. "I couldn't see snow from it if I tried. Blimey, you're right."

"Of course I'm right. Now, come on and walk with me. It's the first snow, and I've always wanted to walk through the first snow with someone I lo… someone special," she corrected quickly.

Gold smiled.

"All right. I'm hereby holding you responsible if Fox sacks me for shirking off early."

Belle, sitting on an empty desk, merely raised an eyebrow in reply to this statement.

"You're right, he went off for a liquid lunch with his golf mates and hasn't been back since. Poor Kathryn, she'll have to go and drag him out of the Old Ship Inn soon."

Gold went back into his office and collected his coat and umbrella.

"Merry Christmas!" Dawn called after them. "What? No, sorry Mr Shaw, one of my colleagues just left the office for Christmas. Yes, well, it is the twenty-third of December. Yes, I know your case is very important…"

Belle and Gold left her to it and descended back down the stairs. Jim was still leaning on the reception desk, and Kathryn didn't seem to notice their leaving the building.

"Seriously, Belle, why the wings?" Gold asked once they were outside and heading along the main street, cuddled together under the umbrella. "They're making life slightly difficult."

"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport." Belle kissed his cheek. "You like them really."

"They're lovely, darling, but why are you wearing them?"

"Finally fulfilling a childhood fantasy." Belle laughed. "I always wanted to play the Angel Gabriel in the school nativity when I was little, but I always ended up being stuck as part of the crowd. Now I'm twenty-seven, I'm damn well dressing up as an angel. Unfortunately, now I'm twenty-seven, I know that Angel Gabriel was actually a bloke, so I've compromised. I'm a Christmas tree angel."

"Right…" Gold looked at her askance. "Why are you dressed up as an angel in the first place?"

"It's the last working day before Christmas! You've got to dress up!" Belle exclaimed.

Gold merely raised an eyebrow at her. Belle rolled her eyes and settled for simply enjoying the snow. Ruby was right, it was melting as soon as it hit the ground, but from the proclamations of wonder she could her from the other pedestrians, Belle was not the only one marveling at the weather.

"Where are you taking us?" Gold asked presently.

"Well, I'm aiming for the cathedral," Belle replied. "It'll look pretty with the lights and the snow."

"Fair enough." They walked on towards the cathedral green in silence for a few moments before Gold spoke again. "So, I'll see you tonight? I could use some help with my decorations."

Belle gasped in mock horror.

"You haven't even got your Christmas tree up?" she whispered.

"Not yet, no, but I'm sure you can help me with that."

"And presumably, once you get it up you'll want an angel on top of it."

Gold grinned.

"You read my mind. And stole my line."

"Your lines are rubbish, I'm doing them a favour by liberating them. Honestly." Belle nudged his side. "You _are_ behind on your Christmas preparations though. Normally you're so precise about everything."

Gold gave a snort of laughter. "Normally I don't tend to bother with Christmas. For the last ten years I've spent every Christmas in Glasgow with my Aunt Elvira. We exchange bottles of alcohol, complain about our various leg-related ailments and fall asleep in front of _Miracle on 34__th__ Street_. What?" he protested on seeing Belle's appalled expression. "Everyone needs traditions, and Christmas is a time for spending with people you love."

And this year, he was spending it, or at least part of it, with her. Belle heart skipped. Maybe she could broach the L-word after all… She pushed the thought aside for the present and thought of her own Christmas traditions. Up until moving south, she'd spent all her Christmases with her dad. For her first Christmas in the West Country, Ruby and Granny had persuaded her to join in their festivities, and what had begun as a simple invite to Christmas lunch had extended into Belle sleeping on Ruby's sofa for a week whilst a constant stream of guests – invited, uninvited and self-invited – had rushed in and out. It was the best Christmas that she'd ever spent, simply because it had been so different. This year would be different yet again. This year, she had Gold.

"Well, here we are."

The man in question interrupted her train of thought and Belle looked up at the cathedral, brightly floodlit in the dusk with Christmas decorations hanging all around. The snow had practically stopped without leaving a trace, just the odd flake falling now and then.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Belle breathed.

"Not as beautiful as you," Gold said nonchalantly.

Belle batted his arm. "All right, charmer." She rested her head on his shoulder with a contented sigh. "Now, _this_ is Christmas. Don't you feel that this is Christmas?"

"Right now, I feel that your tinsel is tickling my ear."

Belle shifted her head to look at him.

"Be careful now, sir, some might think that's a euphemism for something."

Gold merely raised an eyebrow and Belle had to break his gaze to avoid a fit of the giggles.

"I'm standing in the snow with a mad fairy," he said drily. "Yes, this is Christmas."

"Well," Belle began, "if I'm a mad fairy then you, with your black suit, your black coat, your black gloves, are the very antithesis of Santa and therefore must be Father Whip."

Gold raised the other eyebrow.

"You know," Belle protested. "The imp who delivers coal to children who've been bad. Ok, I know he's more a European thing, but…"

"I know who you mean, dearie. I was just amused at your giving me that particular title considering the previous discussion on euphemisms."

"Hmmm." Belle turned her eyes back to the cathedral rather quickly.

Gold sighed. "You're ridiculous, but I love you for it."

Belle froze, and turned to face Gold fully.

"Say that again," she whispered.

"You're ridiculous."

"No. The second part."

There was a pause as Gold's eyes searched hers.

"I love you."

Belle's heart decided that skipping was overrated and performed a double loop-the-loop instead. It occurred to her that she really ought to say something. _I love you too_, her brain prompted helpfully, but for some reason her tongue refused to work. The corner of Gold's mouth twitched slightly. Yes, she definitely needed to say something before he got the wrong end of the stick.

Since words were still eluding her, Belle decided against saying something and instead grabbed both his lapels, pulling him into a kiss.

"I'll take that as a good sign?" he murmured as she released him.

"Of course, you ridiculous man. I nearly said it earlier. I've always wanted to walk in the first snow with someone I love, and I love you."

Gold abandoned the umbrella in favour of having a free hand to pull her in against him and return her kiss. A little way off, a group of patrons from the Old Ship Inn, already very much in festive spirits, started wolf-whistling, but Belle didn't care.

It was Christmas, after all.


	3. Cheesecake

**Note:** Whilst helping me out with a couple of bits on 'Carrot Cake', my editor and second-opinion-giver **KittyMama213 **made a couple of epilogue suggestions. They didn't make the final cut, but here's one of them in a fully-fleshed out form.

**Note2: **I'm trying to be as chronological as I can in the order of these one-shots, but sometimes I'll skip back and forth in time. This chapter takes place prior to the previous two, and indeed prior to the 'Carrot Cake' epilogue.

**Summary: **Gold invites Belle for dinner and she sees his house for the first time.

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**Cheesecake**

"Why _pink_?"

"It was that colour when I bought it and I haven't got round to doing anything about it. It's probably protected by some kind of listing anyway."

"Why did you buy a pink house to start with?"

"Because, as with everything, my dear, it's what's on the inside that counts."

Belle was standing in the middle of Gold's driveway, staring up at the pink building in front of her. Its owner was leaning in his front doorframe, failing to keep a straight face on seeing her reaction to the colour of his home.

"If you don't stop gawping and come inside soon, I'll have to leave you out there to check that I'm not burning the kitchen down with my culinary skills."

"All right, all right, I'm coming in."

To be honest, Belle was slightly nervous about setting foot in Gold's house. Not because she was scared of him, but because she was acutely aware of her surroundings. Before, whenever they had met, they had been either in a domain Belle was familiar with – the café – or on neutral ground. Gold's home was his alone, a place he felt safe and relaxed in, and he was allowing her into it too. Becoming a comfortable part of someone else's private life was a marker of trust; Gold had willingly removed a barrier of social convention between them and was laying out his entire life for her scrutiny. Belle felt a certain responsibility to be on her best behaviour. She made her way towards the front door, and Gold stepped back to let her inside, closing the door after her.

"You have so much…" Belle began, looking around the hall and up the stairs.

"Junk?" Gold supplied helpfully. "I live in a pawnbroker's paradise."

Belle peered at the china on the hall windowsill.

"Were you an antiques dealer in a former life or something?" she asked.

"Probably. Either that or a magpie." He took Belle's coat and hung it over the banister. "Would you like to see the rest of the house, or are you content to stay exploring the hall?"

Belle smiled.

"Well, as long as you're not in danger of burning the house down, I'd love a tour."

"It'll be fine," Gold said airily. "Follow me, my intrepid fellow traveller."

Belle wondered if 'it'll be fine' was always Gold's maxim when it came to cooking, but she said nothing. He'd been taking care of himself for at least fifteen years and was still here to tell the tale, after all. She was still thinking about cooking when they entered the living room and it took her a few seconds to realise what she was looking at.

"Is that a _tiger_?" she asked.

"Yes," said Gold, as if having a near life-size plush tiger in the centre of one's living room was entirely commonplace.

"Why?"

"Why is it a tiger? Or why is there a tiger in the living room?"

"The latter."

"Well, I won it on Blackpool Pier a very long time ago, and I use it as a footstool."

Belle gave him an incredulous look that hopefully asked why without having to repeat herself.

Gold shrugged.

"Why not?"

Belle glanced around the room; she was fairly certain that she could spend about three hours in there asking after every little trinket, but Gold was standing patiently in the doorway and she realised that her guided tour of his home wasn't intended to be quite that in depth just yet. She ducked out of the room and let him lead her through the rest of the house quickly, just giving her enough of a look into each room for her to uncover its secrets and whirl through a myriad of questions – mainly 'what's that?' and 'where did that come from?' – that a laughing Gold promised to answer in due course

She was, however, rendered completely speechless by the main bathroom, and spent several seconds staring in open-mouthed wonder at the antique clawfoot tub.

"That's the most beautiful bathtub I have ever seen," Belle murmured eventually.

"Glad you like it," Gold replied. She could tell he was holding back a laugh, even if she couldn't see his face. "I think it's beautiful too, and I shall keep it until I am too old and creaky to get in and out of it anymore."

Belle twisted and looked over her shoulder at him, before glancing back at the tub. It was amply proportioned, and would definitely take more than one person…

She blushed involuntarily and ducked back out of the room to follow Gold back down the stairs and into the kitchen, leaning on the table to watch him as he worked and she told him about her day. He'd hooked his cane on the worktop to have both hands free, and Belle noted the way he moved without it, the way he leaned and balanced his weight, the way his limping gait became more pronounced when he walked a few steps. It was only when he glanced at her, head cocked on one side, that she realised she'd tailed off talking.

"I'm all right," he said, tapping the flat of his kitchen knife against his bad knee. "It doesn't generally give me any more pain like this, I can walk without it, I'm just more unsteady."

At that moment, they were interrupted by the oven timer beeping before Belle could find out any more.

The meal was nothing extravagant, chicken in a lemon sauce with vegetables, but it was well-cooked and tasted good, and that was what was important in Belle's eyes, and she let Gold do the talking as she enjoyed her food. By the time he had finished telling her the latest chapter in the ongoing saga that was Regina and Sid's on-again-off-again relationship (apparently Jefferson had found them entwined in his consulting room that morning and had had to take the rest of the day off to recover), they'd both finished eating and were watching the candles on the dining table burning down.

"Shall we move to the living room for dessert?" Gold asked. "You can test out the tiger."

Belle laughed. "I'd love to." She slipped the two empty plates together as Gold stood and leant over the table to snuff out the candles. A thought swept across her mind unbidden and made her giggle again. Gold raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Just a silly thought," she explained.

"Now I'm intrigued, dearie," he purred. "The silly thoughts are always the most interesting."

"All right then. I was thinking about your tie catching fire."

"I'm not wearing a tie," Gold said. "Dear me, has it really got to the stage where you've seen me wearing one so often you start imagining them?"

Belle shook her head with a smile and stayed staring after Gold's back after he left the room with the plates. She liked him looking like this, because she knew she was generally the only one who got to see him in his shirtsleeves and open collar, his off-duty uniform, so to speak. This relaxed, softer Gold was hers, as opposed to the exquisitely tailored Gold whom she shared with the rest of the world. Idly she wondered what he looked like in his pyjamas, and indeed, what he looked like out of them. She'd imagined often enough when she'd written her little flights of fancy, but now she actually knew him, and knew that the day when she could find out for certain was definitely coming, her daydreaming was infinitely more satisfying.

She pushed the thought aside with an embarrassed little cough before she could get too carried away, and she went to find Gold in the kitchen.

"I'm afraid my expertise don't stretch too far," he said, indicating the plastic dividers he was peeling away from a couple of slices of cheesecake. "Supermarket's finest."

"I'm sure it'll be lovely," Belle reassured him. She took up one of the bowls without a word; she knew he wanted to be a gentleman and wait on her but when he only had one hand free, she might as well save him a trip back to the kitchen.

Gold picked up his own bowl and she followed him into the living room. He gestured towards the sofa with a little bow.

"Do take a seat, dear lady, for your tiger awaits."

Belle nearly bent double with laughter and had to swallow hard to compose herself to sit primly on one side of the sofa. Gold scooted the tiger across the floor towards her with his cane and she kicked her shoes off to rest her feet on it, neatly crossing her ankles. She waited for Gold to sit down beside her, stretching his right leg out but keeping his other bent, and they began to eat by mutual consent.

Presently Belle twisted round and looked at the bookcase beside her, scanning through the titles, but she found her attention drawn to the picture frame on top. She tilted her head on one side to get a better look.

"Is that Bae?" she asked.

Gold followed her eyeline and nodded. He reached across, taking the frame off the shelf and passing it to her.

"It was taken at St Mary's Stadium on his thirteenth birthday. It was pouring with rain and Southampton lost but we had a good time nonetheless."

Belle laughed and studied the picture, a boy in a red and white football shirt grinning from ear to ear. That Bae was Gold's son there could be no doubt; his dark eyes could've been a mirror for his father's. She glanced up to find Gold watching her, his expression unreadable.

"He looks a lot like you," she said simply, and replaced the frame on top of the bookcase.

"Yes, as far as looks were concerned there was never any doubt he was mine. Temperament, though… Liz always used say he'd inherited her good points and my bad ones."

Belle shifted a little closer to him on the sofa.

"Should I be worried about these hereditary bad points of yours?" she asked.

Gold grinned. "Short temper, a lawyer's innate ability to bend the truth…" he began.

"Good at lying, you mean."

"Now, that's not what I said. Technically."

"Yes, I know you thrive on technicalities." Belle paused. "So, Bae was going to be an excellent one to follow in the family profession then?"

"God no." Gold shook his head with a laugh. "No, being a lawyer was the last thing he wanted to do. He couldn't sit still – and I swear he didn't get that from either of us. If the career as a professional footballer didn't work out, he wanted to be a fireman."

Belle smiled and turned her attention back to her cheesecake.

"Did you always want to be a solicitor?" she asked after a while.

"I wanted to be everything under the sun, up to and including Prime Minister. But once I started studying law then yes, I knew that was what I wanted to do with my life. What about you?"

"Well, didn't intend being a waitress my whole life. When I was really little I wanted to keep camels."

Gold looked at her.

"Why camels?"

Belle tapped her toes on the tiger's head. "Why not?"

"True, true."

They lapsed into silence.

"Librarian," Belle said eventually. "I wanted to be a librarian. I love books, and my attempts to write them didn't go to plan, but I knew I wanted to work with them."

"You still could," Gold said. Belle looked at him sharply but he was in earnest. "There's nothing stopping you."

"Really?"

"Says the woman who one day decided to move a hundred miles south to start a new life. If you can do that, you can do anything. Applying to the library should be a piece of cake in comparison."

Belle laughed. "Well, Astrid always said that you can do anything as long as you can dream it, and I believe that if you do the brave thing, bravery will follow."

"Well then." Gold took her empty bowl. "I see no reason why you couldn't be a librarian if you wanted to."

He smiled, and Belle smiled back, and somehow they managed to fall into a kiss without either really being sure who initiated it.

"Coffee?" Gold asked once he'd broken away.

Belle nodded. "Please."

He got up and left the room, and Belle made to follow and help, but she was distracted by the mantelpiece, which was playing host to a rather familiar chipped teacup. She shook her head in despair at the memory and let her gaze wander over the rest of the trinkets whose origins she would hopefully learn in due course. Coming to the end of the mantel, she found a small picture frame with an sepia photograph in it, a very old portrait style. She looked at the woman in the frame, trying to establish any familial likeness.

Presently a coffee cup appeared in her eyeline.

"Thank you." She took the cup and continued to look over the mantelpiece. "Gold…"

"Hang on."

She heard him leave the room and return a few moments later, and he came up alongside her holding his own coffee cup.

"Yes?"

Belle nodded towards the photograph. "She's beautiful. Who is she?"

Gold failed to hide a smile in his cup.

"That's my grandmother. I never actually knew her, but from all accounts she was a very beautiful and remarkable woman in many ways. It's the only sepia photograph I own, which is the main reason why I keep it. Like I said, she'd died before I was born."

"How old is it?"

"It's from nineteen-eighteen."

Belle could tell that there was a story behind this woman; that her tale had far more to be told even if Gold had never met her.

"What's her name?" she asked.

Gold smiled at a private joke. "The Battleaxe."

Belle frowned. "She doesn't look like a battleaxe."

"She's only sixteen in that picture," Gold pointed out. "By the time she'd moved to Scotland and married off her only daughter to a ne'er do well shipbuilder, she wasn't quite as sweetness and light as she is there."

Belle looked at Gold's grandmother for a while, wanting to ask the story but at the same time wanting to keep the mystery, think up a tale for herself as her imagination was so often keen to do. She went back over to the sofa and resettled her feet on the tiger.

"You're right, it does make a good footstool."

"Told you so."

Belle sipped her coffee, glancing occasionally at the photographs whose stories she'd been told. One day she'd really know the people behind the glass, just as Gold would come into her house and know the stories of her family. But there'd be plenty of time for that in the future. For now, they were content to just learn about each other.


	4. Christmas Cake

**Note: **I apologise for the lack of **Cupcakes** these past couple of weeks. I've been absolutely exhausted from my new job and so my writing time has been reduced to a minimum. I was determined to have this particular cake up before Epiphany and the end of Christmas, though. I know it's a bit late to be a 'Christmas' tale, but since half of it takes place at New Year's, it's not too out of season.

I hope you enjoy this festive offering. It gets slightly racy in places, but nothing too shocking.

**Summary:** Belle and Gold's first Christmas/ New Year together, prompted by **Wingless Demeter.**

* * *

**Christmas Cake**

It had just turned midnight, and Christmas Day was over. Belle curled her legs up beneath her on the sofa, snuggling into Gold's side and chinking her tumbler against his. She felt his free hand snake round behind her and come to rest on her hip.

"Now," she began. "You can't try to tell me that this wasn't better than getting drunk with your Aunt Elvira in Glasgow."

"Hmm." Gold sounded distinctly as if he was reserving judgement, and Belle thumped his shoulder playfully. "Ow! Yes, I admit, this was definitely better than getting drunk with Aunt Elvira. Just don't tell her that." He paused and took a sip of whiskey, gifted from the aforementioned aunt that morning. "I could've done without the wake-up call this morning though."

Belle laughed and fell to remembering. They'd had a rather unexpected start to the day courtesy of a slightly hyperactive Ruby…

_The phone was ringing. Why was the phone ringing in the middle of the night? It could only be an emergency. Still half-asleep and wondering what could possibly be drastic enough to warrant being woken up early Christmas morning, Belle rolled out of bed and padded through the darkness towards her dressing table where she'd left the phone._

"_Hello?" she said, although the last syllable was swallowed in a yawn as she made her way back across the room and got back into bed to keep her feet warm. _

"_Belle, it's Ruby, we've got a supply crisis on our hands."_

"_What?" Belle's brow furrowed. "Ruby, it's…" She reached over Gold, who gave an incoherent grumble in protest, and checked the time on her alarm clock. "It's only just gone seven o'clock. It's still dark."_

"_And I think we're going to run out of booze," Ruby said. "We drank a bit more than we intended last night and we need to know how much we can drink today so we've still got enough for Boxing Day. Will Gold want red or white wine with lunch tomorrow?" There was a pause. "Merry Christmas, by the way."_

"_Merry Christmas." Belle lay back against her pillows with a groan. "Gold won't want either, he'll be driving."_

"_Thank goodness," Ruby said, and Belle heard her calling to her grandmother. "It's ok, Granny, we've got enough!"_

"_Ruby, how can you and Granny, of all people, misjudge the amount of alcohol you need? You are unbelievable."_

"_I know," Ruby said cheerfully. "So, what have you got for Christmas?"_

"_I don't know." Belle yawned again. "I haven't opened any presents yet; I'm still in bed."_

"_But it's Christmas!" Ruby exclaimed. _

"_It's time for a lie-in," Gold muttered darkly from under the covers. He turned over and tugged the phone out of Belle's hand. "Merry Christmas, Ruby," he said, and promptly hung up. Belle gave a mental shrug as she pulled the blanket back up to her nose for another couple of hours' sleep before Christmas began properly. Presents could wait for a while._

"You didn't do yourself any favours there," Belle pointed out. "We're going to her house for lunch tomorrow and the fact you were in my bed on Christmas morning will provide her with enough ammunition to last till New Year's. Be prepared for lots of jokes about you trimming my Christmas tree."

"I consider myself duly forewarned." Gold stretched out his feet on the stuffed tiger. "I thought I'd seen the last of early mornings on Christmas Day when Bae realised I was Father Christmas and that the presents would still be there later than half-past six."

At this declaration, Belle was gifted with an image of Gold in a Santa outfit, complete with beard, and she burst out laughing, to the extent that he took her glass for fear of her upending his Scotch over the sofa.

"Don't tell me, you were imagining me dressed up as the man in red," he said drily. Belle nodded.

"Did you ever do what my dad did one year, and get so plastered on Christmas Eve that he fell over whilst trying to put my stocking at the end of my bed?" she asked. "Remaining 'asleep' during that was a masterpiece of acting, even if I do say so myself. I hung my stocking on my bedroom door after that, though, just in case."

Gold shook his head. "I never did that, but I did manage to drop half the presents on Liz's head one year." Belle gave him a perplexed look and he continued. "We used to hide the packages in the top of the spare wardrobe. Getting them down under the tree was an interesting exercise in logistics some years. Especially when we'd had a few."

Belle sipped her whiskey. She was not much of a spirit drinker, but whiskey at Christmas seemed to fit somehow, somewhere along with the image of candlelit Christmas trees, roaring fires and leather armchairs – none of which featured in their current tableau. The day had been a hotch-potch mix of traditions; its unorthodox beginning had been an indicator of the strange day to come in itself. They'd started the day in Belle's house and finished it in Gold's, unwrapping gifts here and there between long-distance phone calls. (Moe had spent Christmas with Brenda, as he'd done the previous year, and was half asleep on the sofa having eaten what sounded to be an entire Christmas pudding on his own when Belle rang. Gold's Aunt Elvira had spent half their conversation berating him for leaving her on her own with no excuse not to take up her weird neighbours' invitation to lunch, and the other half thanking him for her gin and telling him that maybe the neighbours weren't as bad as she'd first thought because they liked the Wombles.) But in the end, it didn't matter, because Christmas was a time for spending with people you loved, and the idiosyncrasies were all part of the picture.

Speaking of people in love, however…

"There's one present we haven't opened yet," Belle said conversationally. Gold looked at her through narrowed eyes.

"We?" he asked.

"Well, I bought it as a present to myself, but I rather hope you'll enjoy it as well," Belle replied. "You remember when Ruby and I went to London to see the lights and Harrods' Christmas window displays?" she continued.

"Yes. I came to pick you up from the station at three in the morning because you'd missed your train home and had to catch the sleeper."

"Yes, but that aside, whilst we were in London, we did a bit of Christmas shopping for ourselves."

"Yes…"

"And we might just have happened to have gone into Ann Summers…"

"Yes…" Gold sounded slightly strangled as he looked her up and down, taking in her warm and fluffy dressing gown, and only now realising that there was something definitely not warm and fluffy underneath. "Somehow," he managed, "I don't think you'll appreciate me ripping the wrapping paper on this one."

Belle stood and undid the belt of her gown, flashing him the briefest of glimpses of the red and white lace ensemble beneath before covering up again.

"Oh, believe me darling," she said sweetly, "if you can shred my dressing gown, I won't stop you."

"You want to be careful, Miss French." Gold was practically growling as he pulled her back down onto the sofa with him. "That sounded remarkably like a challenge…"

X

As tempting as it had been to cancel Boxing Day lunch at Ruby's in favour of spending the entire day in bed, the twenty-sixth of December found Belle and Gold in station road.

"Now, I know Ruby and Granny can be overwhelming," Belle began, "but Archie, Emma, Graham and Henry will be there as well, so you shouldn't feel too outnumbered."

"Ruby and her grandmother are not in themselves overwhelming," Gold said as he parked the car. "It's only when you put them together and give them alcohol that they begin to give the impression that they could eat you alive."

"Belle!" Ruby was waving from the doorstep of number ninety-three. Sure enough, there was a bottle of Bristol Cream in one hand and a sherry glass in the other. "Over here!"

"Ruby, I know where you live," Belle said. She raised an eyebrow as Ruby refilled her glass "Are you making up for lost time because you had to limit yourselves yesterday?"

"Perhaps," Ruby said. "Come in, warm up, have some sherry. Or not," she added as Gold came up the garden path behind Belle. She cocked her head on one side. "What _do_ you drink when you aren't drinking Scotch or tea?" she asked, before waving the question away. "Ah well, Granny's in charge of everything that isn't sherry at the moment. I've been banned from the kitchen after my little misadventure with the sprouts yesterday."

"What happened?" Belle asked, hanging up her coat and accepting the sherry that Ruby had poured for her.

"You don't want to know," Granny called from the kitchen. "We have vowed never to speak of it again."

"It wasn't that bad," Ruby said airily. "Only five of them actually exploded. So, what did you get for Christmas?"

"There'll be no Christmas present discussion at the table." Granny came out of the kitchen to greet the new arrivals. "Since you two girls are both in the first throes of new love and Emma's in the first throes of newly-affianced status, there's far too much potential for making the ten-year-old ears present blush."

Belle thought of her mauled dressing gown – even Gold in the heights of ardour couldn't rip velour although he'd made a damn good go of it – and dutifully said nothing.

"Too much potential for making celibate septuagenarians jealous, more like," Ruby countered. Granny merely tutted and, having hugged Belle and gone to hug Gold but decided better of it, delved into the cupboard under the stairs in search of non-alcoholic refreshment. "So," Ruby continued. "I trust the contents of Santa's sack were satisfactory? Especially since he was still there at seven in the morning dispensing them?"

Gold suddenly became extremely interested in the Christmas cards hanging up in the hallway. Belle just laughed.

"Most satisfactory, thank you."

"Chocolates, silk underwear?"

"Yes, both of those."

"Excellent." Ruby grinned wickedly. "So what did Gold get you then?"

"And now I think it would be an excellent time for us to move out of the hallway and into the living room," Granny said loudly from the cupboard. "Archie'll be getting lonely in there."

Ruby ushered her guests into the living room, where they were greeted by Archie, who seemed extremely relieved to have a second male presence on whom he could rely to provide moral support once Granny really got started on the fortified wine. The usual Christmas pleasantries were exchanged before they were interrupted by a cry of triumph.

"Aha!" came Granny's voice from under the stairs. "I knew I had lime cordial in here somewhere. Ah… Went out of date in nineteen-eighty-two…"

Gold raised an eyebrow.

"I think I'll pass, thank you, Mrs Lucas."

"Well, at least it's supposed to be green so you can't see the mould." Granny came into the living room wiping thirty years' worth of dust off a bottle. "Hmm. Not sure it's meant to be so thick though."

Ruby took the cordial and turned it upside down.

"It has actually set solid," she mused. "We ought to send it to the government as a Site of Special Scientific Interest." She shook it slightly and a globule of cordial was dislodged from the bottom of the bottle. "Oh, it'll be fine once you stick some soda in with it."

Gold and Belle exchanged looks, and Belle just shrugged, as if to say 'welcome to my world'. It was still Christmas, after all…

X

It was New Year's Eve, and Belle was once more in Granny and Ruby's dining room – on Gold's lap, since there were nowhere near enough chairs for all the guests, who were packed into the terraced house like sardines. The majority of the people from the precinct who'd been invited to Astrid and Leroy's going away party the previous month had turned up to celebrate the passing of the old year with Ruby and Granny, along with several distant Lucas relatives whom Belle had met in various states of drunkenness the last Christmas, and some people whom she'd never seen before and who had probably been invited by August. Henry could be found hiding with Jefferson's daughter Grace under the buffet table out of the way, comparing Christmas presents and getting into an in-depth discussion about a book series they were both reading, their presence only betrayed by the occasional hand popping up from under the tablecloth to pinch some sausage rolls. Archie and Ruby were in the garden – the guests had spilled out of the house, there were that many of them – and Pongo was barking along in time with the music that was blasting out of Granny's ancient stereo in the kitchen. Perhaps the house was so full because they'd invited half the street so they wouldn't complain about being disturbed by the noise.

Gold pressed a kiss against her neck, bringing her back to the present.

"What are you thinking about, love?" he asked.

"Nothing," she replied. Well, that was a lie. "Nothing important."

She was thinking about Boxing Day evening, when he'd dropped her back at her flat. (They'd both been reluctant, but they were still in their honeymoon period and terrified of rushing things, so a night apart every now and then was probably healthy. Belle knew all too well the adverse effects of too much sex on top of eighteen months' celibacy.)

"_Gold…" she asked, plucking a stray shred of tinsel from his coat and rolling it between her fingers._

"_Yes?"_

"_What do you usually do on New Year's Eve?"_

"_Belle, I have spent every Hogmanay for the last ten years in Glasgow with my Aunt Elvira. We…"_

"…_exchange bottles of alcohol, complain about your various leg-related ailments and fall asleep in front of _Miracle on 34th Street_. Yes, I remember."_

"_No, that's what we do on Christmas Day. New Year's Eve is a different kettle of fish entirely. No, on New Year's Eve we do the rounds of the neighbours, see who's got the best party and stay there until sun-up. Or until the drink runs out, when we all decamp elsewhere."_

_Belle looked at him sideways. _

"_And you do all this with your eighty-three year old maiden aunt?" she asked incredulously._

"_You've never met my eighty-three year old maiden aunt," Gold said. He gave her a sage look and Belle flicked the tinsel at him. _

"_So, if I were to extend an invitation from Ruby to come to her and Granny's New Year's Eve extravaganza, you'd come?" she asked._

_Gold grinned. _

"_It's Hogmanay," he said. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."_

Belle was jolted out of her little daydream quite literally, letting out a shrill squeal as Gold bounced her on his good leg.

"You were miles away again," he scolded playfully. "I had to bring you down to earth."

Belle was torn between hitting him and kissing him. She'd never seen him quite like this before; she knew Hogmanay was a strong tradition in Scotland, stronger than Christmas in some places, but she'd never experienced New Year's with a Scotsman before, and she'd assumed that Gold had lived so long in the South that his enthusiasm would have been tempered. The evening had proved her dramatically wrong, something shining in his eyes that she was sure had not been there on previous evenings.

Graham battled his way over to their corner.

"I've only just managed to get away from Ruby's Uncle Stanley," he said. "I've half a mind to join Henry under the table."

"You'd probably be better off trying to find Emma," Gold said. "It's nearly midnight and you don't want someone else grabbing her at crunch time." He increased his grip on Belle's waist, the movement imperceptible to the eye, but Belle could feel it. "Why do you think I've kept you so close all evening?"

Belle wriggled free from his arms so that she could stand and pull him up with her.

"We need some champagne," she said in answer to his unspoken question of 'why have we given up our chair?'. "Or at least, we need to try and find it before it's all drunk and we don't get any to toast the New Year in with."

Out of the corner of her eye, Belle saw Graham waving madly over the top of Ruby's Uncle Stanley's head towards Emma, who was absorbed in conversation with August and paying her fiancé absolutely no attention whatsoever. Someone was yelling from the living room, where the TV was on blasting out the live coverage of the New Year celebrations in London, that there was less than a minute of the old year left. Jefferson had managed to persuade Henry and Grace out of hiding, and there seemed to be far more people in the room than there had any business to be.

Gold caught Belle's wrist as she tried to get out of the dining room.

"It's not worth it," he murmured. "Let's just stay here."

He held her close against the crush, pressing her flush against him, and Belle slipped her arms round his middle under his jacket.

Ten… Nine… Eight…

Gold's mouth was looking incredibly inviting, but Belle was determined not to give into temptation until the year had ended.

Seven… Six… Five…

She decided her New Year's resolution was to spend as much time as possible in the arms of the man currently holding her.

Four… Three… Two…

And maybe buy some more underwear.

One.

Belle got as far as 'Happy Ne…' before Gold had captured her mouth in a kiss that went above and beyond the call of duty as far as the 'kiss the person nearest to you at midnight' rule was concerned. He finally released her and Belle rested her chin in the crook of his collar bone. Best to start early on the resolutions. Under the exclamations of Happy New Year, calls for champagne, fireworks and wildly inappropriate music, she made out a low Scottish voice rumbling next to her ear.

"_Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind…_"

Belle closed her eyes and nuzzled into Gold's neck, feeling him singing more than she could hear him.

"…_we'll raise a cup of kindness yet for the sake of auld lang syne…_"

"That was lovely," she whispered when he'd finished.

"I can sing it in Gaelic if you want," he said. "According to Aunt Elvira, the words mean the same thing, but it could be something completely different."

He was about to pull her into another kiss when his phone rang. He rolled his eyes but dutifully answered.

"Hello Aunt Elvira. Happy New Year. Yes, Bliadhna Mhath Ùr if you must." He raised his eyes to heaven and put the phone next to Belle's ear. A shrill Glaswegian voice that sounded as if its owner had had far too much gin was practically shouting down the phone over the noise on the other end. Aunt Elvira had obviously gone out on the town without her errant nephew for companionship and had managed to find a pretty good party on her own.

"… and my only relative is gallivanting off down South, leaving me with but my gin for company…"

"Just say Happy New Year," Gold mouthed to Belle.

"Erm, Happy New Year, Aunt Elvira," she said.

Aunt Elvira gave a squawk of alarm and Gold took the phone back. He listened for a few minutes, went decidedly pink and hung up with a gruff 'Happy New Year, I'll call you later'.

Belle gave a small, scheming smile.

"What on earth could she have said to make you blush?" she asked Gold, who shook his head. "You know, I'm beginning to like your Aunt Elvira. I'd quite like to meet her."

"I was starting to fear that," Gold muttered. He looked her straight in the eye. "If you really want to know, she told me to…"

"Happy New Year!" Ruby bounded up to them with Archie and Pongo in hot pursuit. However they'd managed to get in from the garden was beyond Belle, and she cursed her friend's sense of timing as she was summarily hugged very tightly. "Sorry, were you two in the middle of something?"

Belle rolled her eyes as Ruby released her and moved onto Gold, throwing her arms around him before he could protest and then skipping away before he could do anything to retaliate. Belle gave him a sideways glance but Gold just shrugged. New Year's could make fools of them all, it seemed.

X

The majority of the guests had gone by four in the morning, leaving Belle, Ruby, Archie, Gold and a small diehard core of celebrators tidying the house whilst an utterly exhausted (and not a little tipsy) Granny snoozed in an armchair in the living room. By the time the kitchen was in a vague semblance of order and Ruby's next door neighbours had put the carpets back down – having taken them up earlier in the day in case of accidents – it was close on seven, and Belle was dead on her feet. At least they'd left it late enough in the morning that there were plenty of taxis available.

Belle rested her head on Gold's shoulder and gave an enormous yawn. The first day of the year was going to be spent asleep, as long as she had anything to do with it.

Gold, on the other hand, seemed to have other ideas, the merry little glint in his eyes still undimmed after being awake for almost twenty-four hours, and when their taxi stopped in the middle of the town instead of at his doorstep, Belle knew that something was definitely going on.

"Where are we going?" she moaned. "It's nearly half-past seven in the morning, Gold, for crying out loud, I want to sleep, it'll be light soon!"

"Exactly," Gold said. "Hogmanay isn't over till sunrise on the first." They rounded the corner behind the library and he led them up towards the castle gardens and the bench on which they'd had their second date. "You've got to see the sun up on New Year's Day," he added. They could hear the occasional drunken reveller in the gardens still making their way home from one of the many parties that had been happening in various places all over the town.

"Just in time." Gold gave a satisfied sigh and sat down on their bench, pulling Belle down beside him.

"You ridiculous man," she said.

"You won't be saying that in five minutes," Gold replied. "Trust me."

X

The first of January dawned clear and bright, if a bit frosty, and looking out over the town, Belle had to concede Gold's point. It was a beautiful sight to behold. He kissed her cheek, and Belle snuggled into his side. Someone wise had once said that true love wasn't looking into each other's eyes, it was looking at the same thing together, and right now, Belle knew that they were looking forward to a bright new year.

"Happy New Year, Miss French," Gold whispered.

"Happy New Year, Mr Gold."

* * *

**Note2:** I'd like to take this opportunity to wish all my readers a very happy and prosperous 2013. WI x


	5. Lemon Cake

**Note:** Just a short one today folks; I've been busy with work and moving house, but I wanted to explore this idea because it made me smile so much.

Warning: Sexual innuendo throughout. Not explicit enough for an M rating, I don't think, but probably the higher end of a T.

**Summary: **Gold finds Belle's "special" notebook, prompted by **Angel of Love and Fluffy Stuff**.

* * *

**Lemon Cake**

The black BMW screeched to a stop and Gold told the driver who'd cut him up exactly what he thought of him, in no uncertain terms. Sadly, the other driver did not hear this, and, on second thoughts, it was probably best that Gold's outburst of rather colourful language was kept safely within the car. Still grumbling about inept motorists under his breath, Gold parked, and was about to get out of the car when something caught his eye in the passenger foot-well.

It was a reporter's notebook, nothing unusual about it apart from the fact that Gold knew it definitely did not belong to him. He frowned. It had obviously been wedged under the seat and had flown forward when he'd braked sharply. It must have belonged to either Belle or Sid, who were the only people to spend any length of time in the BMW on a regular basis and who had the opportunity to lose things in it.

Gold leaned over and picked up the notebook. Belle did have a tendency to drop things, and whenever Gold was giving Sid a lift anywhere, the latter man was usually drunk and therefore more than likely to leave notebooks lying around. He opened it to try and glean some idea of ownership and immediately recognised Belle's clear, rounded hand. Satisfied, Gold was about to close the book again when he saw his name, and naturally this drew his attention. Reading a little further, Gold discovered the true meaning of the phrase 'curiosity killed the cat' and slammed the book shut.

It was official. Belle's imagination, which he had always known to be overactive, was also incredibly… _vivid_.

Gold stared down at the notebook in his hands and, deciding that he was on the slippery slope anyway, risked a second glance inside, just in case he'd been seeing things the first time round. For a second time, he came to the conclusion that this really was not the sort of material he should be reading when he had a meeting with a client to discuss an enduring power of attorney in fifteen minutes. And, for the second time, Gold came to the conclusion that one thing was certain. The look on Belle's face when she found out about this morning's turn of events was going to be absolutely priceless.

X

"Good morning, Mr Gold," Kathryn said brightly as she handed him his post. "Mr Gold?"

"What? Oh, sorry, Kathryn, I was miles away."

"So I see," Kathryn observed. "Well, Jefferson's phoned in sick and Sid's dragged Dawn into court with him so it'll be pretty quiet up there. Don't get lonely."

Gold merely raised an eyebrow and continued on up the stairs towards his office. Thankfully, his client arrived on time and he was able to put thoughts of Belle's literary fantasies aside for the time being.

As the day wore on, however, he couldn't help occasionally glancing over at his desk drawer where he'd stowed the notebook for safekeeping. Finally, he could resist it no longer. Feeling a strange desire to find out what else she'd written about him, Gold took out the notebook and flipped it open, beginning to read a passage. He raised his eyebrows. Where _did_ Belle get all this from? Well, he reflected, he had seen her bookshelves and their contents, so he shouldn't really be too surprised. All he knew was, she wasn't basing it off real life, because they'd certainly never done _that_.

Oh dear, he was never going to be able to look at his desk in the same way again. Why had she had to set this little erotic masterpiece in his office?

_Well, she probably didn't intend for you to ever see it,_ the little voice in the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Archie Hopper pointed out.

That Belle had written it before she'd properly met him, or at least before they'd first made love, was fairly self-evident. A small part of him wondered if he ought to be worried about this, but he had to admit, he'd had similar thoughts about Belle before they'd introduced themselves to each other. He just hadn't turned his into prose. He was more amused than anything. Well, almost anything.

Oh, for crying out loud. He shut the notebook back in his desk crossly. He was never going to get anything done at this rate. His desk phone chirruped into life, startling him out of slightly less than innocent daydreams. He picked it up.

"Mr Clark's here to see you," said Kathryn.

"What? Oh, yes, I remember. Send him up,"

"Mr Gold?" Kathryn began, "are you quite all right? You seem… distracted."

"I'm fine, thank you, Kathryn. Just a lot on my mind at the moment."

"Right…" Kathryn didn't sound all that convinced. "Mr Clark's on his way up."

Gold hung up and sighed before giving himself a shake and getting up to greet Mr Clark. The man's hay fever was obviously playing up again; Gold could hear him sneezing before he'd even left his office.

He took one last longing look at his desk before pushing all thoughts of non-work related activities to the back of his mind. It was going to take an awful lot of will-power to get to the end of the day…

X

As far as Belle was concerned, it was a perfectly ordinary Monday evening as she ran the short distance over the way between the café and the law offices after her shift finished. She'd had an uneventful day at work, as usual, and Gold would meet her at the door and take her home, as usual, and they'd have a fairly normal Monday evening, as usual.

Her first inkling that all was not as it should be was when, instead of appearing at the door with coat on and car keys in hand, Gold let her into the offices and motioned for her to follow him.

"I'm a bit behind," he said by way of explanation as he made his way back up the stairs, Belle a couple of paces behind. "Just a couple of things to finish off, then we'll go home."

Well, this wasn't completely unheard of, but unusual enough for Belle to raise an eyebrow. She dutifully followed Gold into his office and sat down in the chair opposite his desk, which seemed to be remarkably empty considering he was in the middle of doing something.

It was then that she saw it.

Sitting there on her lover's desk, so innocently and inconspicuously.

Her notebook.

Her notebook filled with her deepest, darkest fantasies.

Her notebook, that she hadn't even realised she had lost.

Her immediate thought was denial, that it couldn't possibly be hers, after all, there were many reporter's notebooks in the world. Her hand went to the front of her satchel, but alas, she could feel its absence. The notebook on the desk was definitely hers.

Belle groaned and buried her head in her hands, feeling her cheeks flush bright red. Oh dear lord above. He'd read it. All her perverted little fantasies from before she'd ever met him, lurid tales of debauchery and desks.

"There is a reason I'm so behind on my paperwork," Gold said drily, and Belle could see him out of the corner of her eye, smirking as he settled himself back in his chair and watched her squirm with an expression of polite amusement. "I found some rather intriguing reading material in my car this morning."

"I'm so sorry," Belle murmured behind her hands. She was fairly certain that she had never been so embarrassed in her whole adult life. It was one thing to fantasise about someone, another to write those fantasies down in fiction form, and yet another to have the subject read them.

"Oh, don't apologise, it's been far more interesting than Wills and divorce petitions. Slightly distracting though."

Belle risked a glance through her fingers. Gold was still sitting there, idly flipping through the pages of her notebook. She moved her hands away from her face fully and studied him, mapping his reaction closely.

He was evidently finding the whole thing hilarious, which Belle was not finding it in the slightest, but she could see something else in his dark eyes, the unmistakeable glint that meant his thoughts were not at all pure and he was having, to put it euphemistically, naughty ideas.

"Yes, slightly distracting," Gold repeated. "There could have been some very difficult-to-explain situations on more than one occasion, today." He closed the book and handed it back to her. "You, my love, have a lot to answer for."

Belle, feeling a little emboldened by the fact he didn't seem to be running a mile in disgust at the fact she could dream up such things, finally trusted herself to speak.

"You can't say you've never thought about it," she blurted out. "You, me, your desk…"

Gold shook his head.

"No, you're right. I have thought about it. And thanks to you I've been thinking about it all day and I'm utterly wound up." Belle had to smile at his bluntness. "So since I'll never be able to look at my desk in the same way again anyway…"

Gold raised an eyebrow and Belle raised both of hers in return. Her mouth went dry. Surely he wasn't seriously suggesting that they made good on her notebook? Her eyes flickered to the office door.

"We are alone up here, aren't we?" she managed. "Everyone else has gone home?"

"Solitary as oysters," Gold assured her. There was a moment's pause, and the wickedness in his eyes returned. "So, what do you think, Miss French?"

Belle grinned and leaned across the desk.

"I think I need a lawyer," she purred, "and I think I need him now."


	6. Red Velvet Cake

N**ote:** A bit of Red Cricket for a change. Fear not, we'll be back with Rumbelle next time, but this particular cake was crying out to me and since I already had this shot written, I thought I'd put it up as we haven't had any cake for a while. Warning: A bit risqué, but nothing I'd class above a 12A or PG13 at the cinema.

**Summary:** Archie, Ruby, chess, and a question that isn't…

* * *

**Red Velvet Cake**

Ruby Lucas could say, with her hand on her heart, that her bed was twelve years old and had never had a man in it. The reason for this was, of course, the fact that she lived with her grandmother, and if there was one thing that made the beautiful and brash Ruby baulk, it was the thought of entertaining male guests in her bedroom whilst her grandmother was asleep at the other end of the landing.

On this particular Monday evening, however, Ruby was not thinking about her grandmother, possibly because said grandmother had gone to the women's institute meeting and then on to bingo, and was going to be out for the majority of the evening. So when Archie had turned up on her doorstep with a bottle of wine, offering to continue her chess lessons (he'd started teaching her the previous day during one of her breaks at the café), Ruby had accepted eagerly. Especially since Archie was rather amenable to the idea of 'the kind of chess where you lose more than pieces'.

Ruby was, unfortunately, not a natural when it came to chess, which explained why she could be found wearing only her bra and knickers whilst Archie was still comparatively fully clothed. They were sitting on the floor of Ruby's bedroom, because Granny had just taken in a mass order of new baking equipment for the café, so the kitchen was full of cake and the living room was full of the utensils used to make it. Despite the fact that they were less than two feet away from her bed and were gradually getting undressed, Ruby was very focused on the game, determined that she would not allow this new concept to best her. She would conquer chess as she conquered everything else in this life: with the force of a rampaging bull. The trouble was, Ruby's philosophy of life had always been to act first and ask questions later. Planning ahead was not a strong point for her, and it was this measure of forethought, or rather lack of it, that had lost her most of her pieces, and her clothes with them.

Archie made his next move, and Ruby spotted her chance, pouncing on her remaining knight and sending it galloping across the board to where Archie's bishop had so carelessly stepped into its path.

"You don't want to do that," Archie said as she took his piece, his voice amused.

"Yes, I do," Ruby countered. "Now, hand over your shirt."

Archie shrugged and did as bid, but Ruby got the distinct impression that he was going to start laughing at her any minute. She scowled. "Are you cheating?"

The psychiatrist shook his head, but then, Ruby wouldn't know if he was or wasn't.

Her eyes narrowed. "Your move."

Archie took her remaining knight without batting an eyelid.

"Checkmate," he said. "You lose the game and, I believe, the rest of your clothes."

Ruby spent several seconds staring at the board, wondering how on earth that had just happened. She'd thought her fortunes were changing, dammit! She looked up and met Archie's eye, grinning wickedly.

"If you want them, you'll have to come and get them,"

The chessboard was somewhat forgotten after that.

X

There was still a good half-hour before Granny would be home, and as Ruby lay in bed in Archie's arms, she couldn't help but feel a certain sense of occasion, that her bed had finally been broken in, so to speak.

"What are you thinking about?" Archie asked presently. "You look like you're miles away."

There were disadvantages to sleeping with a psychiatrist, thought Ruby, twisting the velvet throw between her fingers. They always wanted in when you were lost in thought.

"Nothing really. I was just thinking that you're the first man in this bed."

"Really? Sorry, I didn't mean to sound so surprised, I wasn't implying anything, I swear."

Ruby laughed and pressed her fingers over his lips to silence him.

"It's all right, I know what you mean." She raised one eyebrow suggestively. "It has had other women in it though…"

"It has?" Archie's voice sounded slightly strained, and Ruby had to giggle.

"Yes. Belle a couple of times, Granny on occasion… We don't have a spare bed so people have to bunk up when they stay over."

"Cosy."

"Yes. But it's always been the way, and I don't mind because I benefit in the long run; the business gets left to me. Granny and Grandpa downsized after their kids moved out so they could save up for the catering business and then the café, and that's always been where all the money's gone instead of on a big house. And it went on me when I came to live with them. Grandpa spoilt me rotten. I think that's always the way though, trying to make up for the fact that a six year old doesn't have parents anymore." She rolled onto her stomach and looked at Archie. "You're probably going to tell me that's a recognised psychological condition."

"Well, now you mention it… It's ok, I won't bore you with the details." He paused. "Have you ever thought about moving out?" he asked. "I know it's just been you and Granny for a while now."

Ruby nodded, shook her head, and nodded again.

"I don't know. I'd like to spread my wings, of course I would. It's always a bit weird telling people that I live with my grandmother, and there's nothing I want more than to see the world and do something with my life. But at the same time, she raised me and she's looked after me all this time; now she's slowing down and I don't want to leave her just when she starts needing my help rather than the other way round."

"So you'd rather stay here?"

"Well, not exactly. It's not like I spend all my time here. Half my nights are spent at your house, after all. I just…" Ruby's brow furrowed and she rested her chin on Archie's chest so that she could hold his gaze. "Archie, are you asking me to move in with you?"

"I'm, well, I'm, erm…" He sighed. "I'm trying to work out whether or not it would be a good idea to ask you to move in with me before I actually ask. Because if it's not going to be a good idea then I won't do it."

"Asking is generally a good idea," Ruby said with a smile. "It's normally the response that's problematic."

"Well, that's what I was afraid of. So, if I were to ask, would it be a good idea?"

Ruby sighed and kissed Archie's chest.

"I don't know," she said earnestly. "I would like to move in with you, very much, but I can't give you an answer right now. Can I sleep on it?"

Archie chuckled.

"Of course."

There was a long silence for a while before Ruby spoke again.

"Can I sleep on you?"

X

Ruby was woken next morning by a soft knock on her bedroom door.

"Morning, Ruby," said Granny's voice.

It was only then that Ruby remembered she was lying on top of Archie, who was fumbling on the bedside table for his glasses. She scrambled off him and pulled the blankets up over his head.

"Morning, Granny," she called brightly.

"I wouldn't have disturbed you but it's half-past eight, and Doctor Hopper's appointments usually begin at nine, and if he wants a bacon sandwich before he leaves, then I'm frying now."

"Erm, ok."

Ruby buried her face in the pillow as Archie emerged from under the blankets.

"How did she know I was here?" he hissed.

Just then, the door opened, and Archie drew the covers up to his nose with a yelp. Granny peeped round the doorframe, grinning.

"Your car was parked outside my house when I came in from bingo last night, Doctor, so naturally, I assumed you wouldn't be far away," she said before disappearing downstairs.

Ruby and Archie exchanged looks, and Ruby groaned.

"When can I move in?"

* * *

**From what I've seen of the show (I haven't seen any of S2 yet), Ruby always gives the impression that she would jump at the chance to leave, but at the same time, this is usually when she's just had an argument with Granny. I wanted to explore her feelings towards the question in more lucid surroundings...  
**

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed this little offering, and fear not, for there is plenty of Rumbelle in the p****ipeline. :)**_**  
**_


	7. Shortbread

**Summary: **Belle and Gold go on a trip to meet his family. Inspired by **Anonymous Nerd Girl**, who prompted 'shortbread cookies and a trip to Scotland' and **Trekkie**, who said 'OMG they HAVE to meet Aunt Elvira'.

* * *

**Shortbread**

"Gold. Gold! Wake up!"

Gold opened one eye and looked sideways at Belle, mumbling something along the lines of 'are we there yet?'

"No. We're at the border and it's your turn to drive."

"Five more minutes." He yawned and shifted in the passenger seat of the little green Ford Fiesta; how on earth he could be comfortable enough to sleep was beyond Belle. She reached over the gear stick and shook his shoulder. Gold batted her hand away.

"All right, all right, I'm awake."

He opened both eyes and looked out of the windscreen at the lay-by they were parked in and the large sign saying 'Welcome to Scotland' that loomed in front of them. Belle sighed as she got out of the driver's side and walked round the front of the car. It was her own fault that she was in this position really. She should have learned by now never to try and bluff Gold, because he'd nearly always call her on it. She patted the bonnet of the Fiesta. It had done well to get them this far. When she'd bought it – a triumphant moment having been saving for it ever since she moved down to Devon – Gold had suggested that she ought to take it on a long run to break it in and get used to it, and he'd offered to come with her.

When Belle had, completely in jest, suggested that they drove to Glasgow to visit his Aunt Elvira, she hadn't expected him to take her up on the idea.

It was a nine hour drive, livened up by the rule that whoever wasn't driving was in charge of the radio. This in itself wasn't overly entertaining; it was more the fact that the radio only seemed to pick up about three stations, so they had a choice of cricket commentary, operas that sounded slightly underwater, or Radio Berkshire – a particularly interesting one since they were currently nearly four hundred miles away from Berkshire. For the most part, the trip had been a good one, but now that they were an awful lot nearer to their destination than they were to home and couldn't turn back, Belle was feeling somewhat apprehensive about the forthcoming meeting.

Gold looked up from adjusting the driver's seat as Belle let out a long sigh.

"Something up, love?"

She turned to him.

"What if she doesn't like me?"

"Who, Aunt Elvira?"

"Who else?"

Gold laughed. "Don't be silly. She's been dying to meet you."

"But what if that's only so that she can rip me to shreds with a single glare?" Belle said . "I've seen you in action in court now. I've seen the way you stare down the opposition. It could make hell freeze over sometimes. What if that look runs in the family?"

"Believe me, it comes down my mother's side, you've nothing to worry about." He gave her a sympathetic look before turning the key in the ignition and pulling out onto the road again. "You're only having second thoughts now that we're actually in Scotland," he said.

"I know, I know."

"Well, we'll be there soon," Gold said cheerfully. "So you don't have long to stew about it."

Belle turned Radio Berkshire up to full volume to distract herself.

X

Elvira Gold had lived in the same area of Glasgow for each of her eighty-three years. She had never married and had no children of her own. She had survived her younger brother and his wife, leaving her with but one living relation – the nephew who was standing on the doorstep of her bungalow with his increasingly nervous girlfriend, listening to the usual cacophony of chaos that preceded Elvira opening the front door.

"Down, Maisie! Down! I said get down!"

This was followed by a volley of high-pitched barking as Maisie, Elvira's toy poodle who served as companion, guard dog and liability in one, attempted to answer the door before her owner. Eventually, she managed to get the dog away from the door and open it.

She was a pretty typical eighty-three year old, if looks were anything to go by, even if she was holding a wooden spoon in one hand and the scruff of a poodle's neck in the other, but it still wasn't enough to mollify Belle yet.

"Ah, the prodigal nephew returns, I see. You know the drill. You can't come in unless you've brought me something to convince me to let you stay."

Gold held out the bottle of gin they'd brought with them and Elvira grinned wickedly.

"Perfect." She reached up on her tiptoes to kiss Gold's cheek. "Welcome back to Scotland, young man. And you must be Belle." She shook Belle's hand and then kissed her as well. "Very pleased to meet you. I thought he was exaggerating when he kept going on about how bonny you were, but he was right."

Belle blushed.

"Come in, come in, out of the cold." Elvira stepped backwards taking Maisie with her, the dog being pulled up short when she tried to jump up and greet the visitors. "Don't mind Maisie, she's just daft. If she had half a brain she'd be dangerous. Oi, Maisie!" she called as the poodle wrestled free of her grip and jumped up at Gold to say hello to her long absent human cousin. "No paw-prints on the Armani!" She shut the door. "Well, I'll show you where you'll be sleeping, and I'm warning you now – the bed squeaks and I'm a light sleeper."

Belle's eyes shifted from Gold, who was staring rather pointedly at the ceiling, to Elvira, who was still doing a pretty passable impression of the Cheshire Cat.

She couldn't quite decide whether she liked Aunt Elvira or was absolutely terrified of her. The next couple of days were going to be extremely interesting.

X

Belle liked to think that everything had been going pretty well until lunchtime the next day. The previous evening had passed pleasantly enough – although perhaps not quite so much for Gold, whose childhood and university indiscretions were the source of most of Elvira's conversation topics. They had very assiduously avoided making the bed squeak, apart from on one occasion in the early hours of the morning when Belle was woken by a canine nose investigating her feet, Maisie having managed to open the bedroom door and come in for a sniff around. Still half asleep and not expecting such an intrusion, Belle had given a muted squeal, whereupon Gold had woken up with a start. Having taken a few moments to assess the situation and groaned something along the lines of 'Jesus Christ, that bloody dog', he got out of bed and dragged the poodle out of the room by the collar, warning her in no uncertain terms that if she tried for a ménage à trois again, she'd be feeling his cane.

("And don't give me that look either," Gold had said when Maisie had given a pathetic whine and looked up at him with a butter-wouldn't-melt expression. "You're the devil in dog form. Now I know why Goethe made Mephistopheles into a poodle for his first entrance.")

Aunt Elvira, it turned out, had lied about being a light sleeper, because she had heard none of this early morning exchange when it was explained to her over breakfast.

So yes, things were on a pretty even keel as far as Belle could tell, until Elvira came through from the kitchen where she was making lunch and told Gold that she had run out of wine.

"Right…" Gold replied. "And what precisely do you expect me to do about it?"

Elvira rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips.

"I expect you to go to the off-licence and get some more!"

"Can't I plead being an invalid?" Gold moaned, waving his cane at her.

"No," Elvira said plainly. "I'm cooking and Belle's a guest, so it's your job."

"If Belle's a guest, what on earth am I?"

"You're my nephew."

Gold sighed – apparently he'd long since learned that arguing with his aunt was a fruitless pursuit – and got up. Belle offered to come with him, but Elvira called her back.

"Actually, Belle, I thought you and I could have a bit of a girly chat."

Gold raised an eyebrow. "So you don't actually need me to go to the off-licence, you just want me out of the way so that you can terrorise my girlfriend."

Elvira placed her hand on her heart with a mock-offended expression.

"Would I do such a thing?"

"Yes," Gold replied gruffly. He turned to Belle. "The shop's only at the end of the road, I'll be fifteen minutes at the most."

"I'll be fine," Belle said brightly, despite the fact she was suddenly not looking forward to being left alone with Aunt Elvira.

"Just set Maisie on her if she scares you too much."

Belle looked down at Maisie, who was chasing her tail round in increasingly small circles. The thought didn't fill her with much confidence.

Elvira sat down in Gold's vacated seat on the sofa beside Belle.

"Now, I know what you're thinking," the older woman began. "You're thinking 'oh dear lord, she's about to threaten me with an egg whisk if I break his heart'. And you're quite right. I am. He's the happiest I've seen him since he lost Bae, and if you hurt him I will come after you and kill you with a spoon." She paused and her fierce expression gradually melted into a smile. "So that's the scary bit over."

"Right…" Belle looked at Elvira, who in spite of her age and frailty did seem perfectly capable of murdering her with a spoon. "Erm… I'm not quite sure what I should say to that. Fair enough, I suppose."

Elvira patted her arm.

"He's my only blood relation, and I'm his. We live at opposite ends of the British Isles and see each other twice a year if we're lucky. I'm a bit protective." She grinned. "But I don't think you'll break his heart, far from it. You two work well together, I can tell. There's something there that wasn't there before, not with any other woman." She paused. "It's a shame you couldn't meet his mother. She would have loved you; you'd have got on very well together. She was nowhere near as scary as I am. Nowhere near the usual Mother-In-Law from Hell."

"I don't know much about her really," Belle admitted. "He doesn't talk about his family much. Apart from you."

"Whatever outrageous tales he's told you about me, I can assure you that they are all completely and utterly true. And aye, well, he has his reasons. There's nothing traumatic, don't worry about that. But he and his dad were never close and that only worsened when the wayward son decided to move about as far away from Scotland as possible. His ma was lovely, though, and it's a shame he didn't take more after her in temperament. I know you're not supposed to like your in-laws, but Miriam didn't have an unkind bone in her body. And like I said, she would have loved you. You remind me a bit of her, actually."

Belle gave a small sigh, not really hearing Elvira's next words as she made her excuses and returned to the kitchen. Gold had told her before that his mother would have loved her, and she'd never really taken him seriously. But now Elvira had also said it...

She did not know much about Gold's family, but having now met its only surviving branch, Belle was beginning to believe that maybe she could become a proper part of it.

X

"She's even lovelier than you had me believe."

Elvira's eyes flickered from her shortbread mix towards Belle, who was playing with Maisie in the conservatory whilst her owner baked in the kitchen, Gold hovering in the doorway between the two. Having ascertained on his return from the off-licence that morning that Belle had not been completely traumatised by her chat with Elvira, he had determined to keep a watchful eye on his aunt for the rest of their stay. He glanced over his shoulder at Belle before turning back to his aunt, who was looking at him in an almost accusatory manner, her arms crossed over her chest in a classic no-nonsense pose.

"She's a keeper. I've already warned her that I'll have her heart with a teaspoon if she hurts you, and now I'll warn you that I'll have your balls with my cuticle scissors if you break her heart." Elvira raised an eyebrow with a wicked little smile. "So when are you going to make an honest woman of her, then?"

"Aunt Elvira, please…"

"You are not getting any younger, sir." She tapped his shoulder with her measuring spoon. "If you don't snap her up soon, someone else will. She's bright, she's beautiful, and she makes you stupidly happy. What more do you need?"

"Nothing, I just… I'm just waiting for the right moment."

Elvira grinned.

"So you are planning on popping the question, then?"

"When the time comes. Baby steps, Aunt Elvira. We aren't even living together yet."

"Aye, and if you don't get a move on I'll come down there with a removal van myself." She paused and gave him a look that could almost be described as sympathetic if it wasn't quite so excited at the prospect of a forthcoming wedding and the opportunity to buy a new hat. "Well, when you do feel that the time is right, you know where I keep the Gold family stone."

"I can't propose to Belle with the family stone!" Gold hissed.

"Why not?"

"Because I proposed to Liz with it! You can't propose to two different women with the same ring, even if it is a family heirloom."

Elvira smiled, and this time it was truly sympathetic.

"Your ma thought you might say that."

Gold watched as Elvira reached down the back of the saucepan cupboard to where she kept all her little valuables and pulled out a small velvet pouch.

"You know Miriam left me her jewellery when she died."

Gold nodded. It was the only thing that she hadn't left to him, and he hadn't contested it. After his father's death, his mother and Elvira had become as close as blood sisters.

"Well, before she died, she took me on one side and told me something. 'I know he'll find the one, even if he doesn't believe me' she said – she was talking about you. 'I know he'll find the one, and I know she'll be the one because she'll wear my ring. Keep it safe for her, Vi.'" Elvira slipped her hand into the little bag and pulled out a ring familiar to Gold that had once adorned his mother's hands. "I'd never met anyone with fingers as slim as your ma's till I met Belle. I couldn't believe it when I shook hands with her, it was like holding Miriam's hands again. I even nicked one of her own rings this morning to measure against it."

Gold raised an eyebrow. "And they wonder where I get my magpie tendencies from."

Elvira ignored him.

"Exactly the same size," she continued. "Just as your ma predicted. She always had a touch of magic about her, Miriam Gold." She took Gold's hand and pressed the ring into it. "So when the time's right, you can give her your ma's ring, with her blessing and mine."

Gold looked back at Belle over his shoulder, following the movement of her hands as she patted Maisie and got her to jump for treats, imagining the ring he now held set against her beautiful fingers. He curled his own fingers over it in his palm.

One day, when the time was right, Belle would wear his mother's ring.


	8. Almond Croissant

**Note:** Hello again folks. How are we all? I just want to say, in case anyone's worried: everyone who has sent me a cupcake idea, your idea **will** be written – I have plots (and indeed cakes) in mind for all of them. It might just be a little while before I get round to them. So keep looking, your prompt will not be forgotten. So, without further ado – more baked goods!

We've gone back in time again, to almost immediately after **Carrot Cake**'s epilogue. I've skipped the juiciest bits to keep it at an appropriate rating, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless.

**Summary:** The morning after Belle and Gold's first night together, prompted by **Julie Winchester **and anon reviewer **Diane**.

Probably self-explanatory from the summary but I'll always try and give warning – sexual innuendo throughout so the higher end of a T.

* * *

**Almond Croissant**

The first thing that crossed Belle's mind when she woke was how lovely and warm she was, especially since it was the middle of December and she didn't have any clothes on. The second thing that crossed Belle's mind, once she remembered where she was, why she was there and why she didn't have any clothes on, was that Gold made an excellent man-shaped hot water bottle and if she could have him in her bed every night, she'd never need to wear pyjamas again.

She had forgotten just how warm a second person made a double bed.

Belle rolled over onto her back to try and regain some of the feeling in her arm where she'd ended up lying on it, and Gold shifted in his sleep at the loss of contact. She glanced over at the shimmering gold silk in an unattractive puddle on the floor where it had been hastily discarded, and remembered the previous evening: the ball, the mulled wine making everything a little bit fuzzy round the edges, being an impromptu witness to Graham's proposal, and what had come after…

She felt Gold move beside her and twisted to see him blinking sleep out of his eyes.

"Good morning."

He smiled languidly. "Morning." He leaned across to kiss her briefly, but when Belle tried to deepen it and push him back down onto the pillows, he pulled away.

"Not now, give me a moment."

"Problem?" Belle asked, her brow furrowing minutely.

"Only if you don't let me out of bed to go to the bathroom," Gold replied pointedly. "All last night's whiskey's catching up with me."

"Ah. Right."

She released him and let him get up, turning back onto her stomach to get comfortable again and returning to her thoughts of the previous evening. She had been nervous during the cab ride home, she'd admit that freely, and she knew Gold had been as well. It was no secret that it had been a long time since either of them had shared a bed. Theirs had been a slow-building romance with its fair share of hiccups, and perhaps, deep down, they had been subconsciously putting off this moment, afraid that when it came to down to it, something would happen. When it finally came down to the bedroom, it was easier for Belle to remember that she'd lived this moment vicariously through prose so many times but didn't know how she would measure up in real life. It was easier for Gold to remember that beneath his suits he had eleven visible scars from the accident and the following surgery. Yes, they had both been nervous, but once they'd made it inside and kissed in the hallway, impatience and lust had swept the fear out of them. Because when it came down to it, they trusted each other and were comfortable enough with each other to say if something wasn't right, and that was really all that mattered.

And when the moment had come, Belle couldn't remember why she had been worried.

Gold returned to the bed and welcomed her readily this time, and Belle decided that starting the day with kissing was an excellent idea. When they finally broke away by mutual consent, she rested her chin on her hands, elbows planted firmly on the mattress, her eyes narrowing in pleasure involuntarily as Gold's fingertips stroked up and down her spine.

"Ruby was right," she said.

Gold's fingers stilled on her skin.

"Ruby was right about what?" he asked, and Belle could swear that there was the smallest hint of fear in his voice.

"You remember the first time you asked me out, that Sunday in the café? You came into the tail end of a conversation between Granny and Ruby concerning the difference between barristers and solicitors."

"Yes, I remember."

"Well, prior to that, Ruby had surmised something about lawyers."

"Which is?"

"Barristers may have briefs, but solicitors wear boxers."

"Indeed." Gold raised an eyebrow. "I'm not wearing either at this particular moment in time."

She was about to make some hopelessly clichéd comment about taking advantage of the fact but was interrupted by a loud rumble from her stomach. She hadn't eaten all that much the previous evening, and the sunlight peering through the crack in the curtains told her that it was late on in the morning.

All the same, she was still mortified. She groaned and hid her face in Gold's chest, only to find the man practically vibrating with silent laughter.

"Shut up," she mumbled against him. "It's not funny."

"You're right. It's not funny. It's hilarious."

Belle moaned."Gold!"

"Oh come on, I've already proved this morning that basic bodily functions have to take priority sometimes." He gave her shoulders an encouraging squeeze, the action seeming to reassure her that all was well. "What do you want for breakfast?"

Belle raised her eyes to meet his and gave a small smile.

"Depends," she teased. "Are you on the menu?"

Gold shook his head.

"That, my dearest Belle, is called cannibalism, and the last time I checked, it was illegal. And as we have established, I am a lawyer and I know these things."

"Ah, but when was the last time you checked?" Belle asked. "Things may have changed since then."

She bit down on his collarbone, not hard enough to leave a mark.

"True enough. Would you prefer me fried or boiled, madam?"

Belle pretended to give the matter serious thought.

"Lightly poached," she said eventually. "And topped with hollandaise sauce."

Luckily – or unluckily – her stomach growled again before she could get too caught up in extremely unwholesome ideas about hollandaise sauce and its various uses.

Gold bit back a laugh. "I think I have some almond croissants in the freezer. We'll have to make do with those."

Belle sat up and drew her knees up to her chest under the covers, watching Gold leave the room in his dressing gown and wondering what to put on. Donning her dress again seemed a bit overkill for a Sunday morning.

Catching something white out of the corner of her eye, Belle found her conundrum solved.

X

She knew she'd had the right idea when she saw Gold's reaction to her sidling into the kitchen wearing just his shirt and her French knickers. He stayed staring at her from over the top of the freezer door for a good two minutes.

"Have you found the croissants?" she asked lightly. "I'm starving."

"I, erm…"

Apparently coherent speech was beyond him. He ducked back down into the freezer and began rummaging in the drawers. Belle leaned over the top of the door and Gold looked up at her.

"Well?" she pressed. "Aren't you getting cold in there? Won't your knee be going stiff?"

She probably shouldn't be teasing him, because at this rate she'd never get any breakfast.

He held up the croissants and pulled himself off the floor, grimacing slightly.

"You're right about the knee," he muttered. "You're going to be the death of me, did you know that?"

Belle pouted. "Surely death by sex is a good thing? Four popes have died whilst having sex."

"What on earth were popes doing having sex in the first place?" Gold asked incredulously as he shut the freezer door and limped across the kitchen to put the oven on.

"I've no idea." Belle moved over to the table and sat down, crossing her legs demurely and fiddling with the shirt cuffs.

Croissants warming nicely, Gold came back across the kitchen and pressed a kiss to her forehead. The scene was so domestic, it was as if they'd had this Sunday morning routine their entire lives.

"Are you all right?" Belle asked in earnest. She was remembering the little gasp of pain that Gold had given the previous night when he'd ended up with all his weight on his bad knee at one point. He nodded.

"I'm fine," he said. "A little out of practice maybe. One forgets the trivial, unimportant things like knees in the heat of the moment."

Belle gave a cheeky little smile.

"Out of practice, you say?" she purred. "Would you be requiring some assistance to… get back into practice?"

Gold's eyes were dark and lusty as he nodded his agreement.

"Oh, most definitely," he growled. His accent had been getting progressively thicker for the last few minutes. "They do say that practice makes perfect."

He slipped a hand down the front of the shirt and Belle caught his wrist.

"Food first, fun later," she scolded.

"So there will be fun later?"

Belle looked from the oven to Gold to the kitchen door and back again.

"Well, I'd hate to keep us from important practising time." She licked her lips. "What are your thoughts towards breakfast in bed?"


	9. Rocky Road

**Summary: Let'sTwistAnotherFairyTale** gave me this prompt:"I think an interesting one in your AU would be if Belle had gotten into a car accident (not seriously hurt of course) but I would love to read how Gold reacts to that and seeing Belle in the hospital." I thought it would be interesting too, and I'd already had an idea along similar lines. Tis of course Rumbelle centred, but a portion is devoted to Gold & Jefferson friendship, and I've some Cake'verse Jefferson back-story in there too.

* * *

**Rocky Road**

Gold groaned as his stomach gave yet another tremendous lurch and he gripped the sink with white knuckles. There couldn't be much more of his lunch left to come back, but the cold wave of nausea refused to leave him. He rested his clammy forehead against the mirror over the sink with a whimper, vaguely aware of someone knocking on the gents' bathroom door.

It had been an ordinary day until he'd got the phone call. As soon as the word 'hospital' had crossed Kathryn's lips, he'd felt his innards begin to churn, and once he'd talked to the nurse, his worst fears had just about come true.

_She's all right_, he told himself firmly. _They're just keeping her in for observation._

"Gold, if you don't say something right now, I'm going to do something drastic." Gold realised that Jefferson had been talking to him through the door and received no reply but the sound of violent regurgitation. He heard the lock scrape open, forced with the flat of a scissor blade – Jefferson was nothing if not prepared.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gold saw the younger man enter the cramped bathroom and put a glass of water down between the taps, all without a word.

"Mr Gold?"

The new voice was nervous and tentative, and it belonged to Dawn.

"It's all right, Dawn," Jefferson said. "I've got this one. Trust me," he continued as he pushed the door to. "It's a man thing."

Gold sighed and closed his eyes, fighting back the urge to retch again. It wasn't at all surprising that Jefferson should be the one mothering him. Of all the people who currently worked out of Guildhall, only three had any sort of experience of being parents – and two of them were in this very bathroom.

"What's up?" the younger man asked quietly. "I'm assuming this has to do with the phone call you just received. I was in reception when Kathryn put it through."

Gold nodded.

"Belle's in the hospital," he croaked. "She's had an accident."

Jefferson let out a long breath and took Gold's shoulder in a firm but friendly and slightly awkward grip. Neither was the most tactile of men, so the gesture was a mark of how dire the circumstances were.

"Do you want a lift over there?" he asked, adding, "that wasn't a question," in a warning tone. "You're shaking. If you try to drive you'll have a wreck yourself."

Gold nodded his acquiescence; it would probably be infinitely safer if someone else was behind the wheel. He straightened and looked in the mirror – Jesus, he looked old today. The hospital staff would probably think he was Belle's father, rather than her boyfriend, dubiously as the title could be applied to someone fast approaching fifty.

He shuddered again at the thought of Belle in the hospital and the circumstances that had brought her there.

_She'll be fine, _ he repeated. _They're just keeping her in for observation._

The mantra wasn't working – it never would, the fear was too strong. He'd lost Bae to the roads already, and since then he'd been terrified of losing someone else to them. He couldn't lose Belle as well.

"Drink," Jefferson said, tapping the glass. "Or you'll rot your teeth."

Gold obeyed mutely. On any other occasion, he would have laughed and made some kind of comment about Jefferson becoming the office mother hen. He'd done it before often enough. But right now, humour was beyond him. The only thing permeating his awareness was that Belle had had a car accident. Gold was not a religious man, but in that moment he winged up a prayer.

_Dear God, don't let me lose her._

X

"So what exactly happened?" Jefferson asked a few minutes later once they were in his car heading towards the hospital. "How badly is she hurt?"

"Just cuts and bruises." Gold sighed, staring out of the windscreen. "Apparently she hit her head quite hard though, so they're keeping her in, in case she's got delayed concussion."

Jefferson nodded, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. He didn't judge Gold's reaction to the news as disproportionate, and Gold was grateful for his quiet companionship. He and his younger colleague had more in common than perhaps met the eye, although the kinship the two men shared was a sad one in many ways. Both had brought up children alone, and both had lost loved ones in sudden tragedies – Jefferson's wife had died of meningitis when their daughter was just two, and he had put his legal training on hold for five years to take care of Grace. Each had recognised a fellow soul in the other, and whilst they mostly kept themselves to themselves, it was reassuring to know that there was someone else nearby who understood more than other colleagues perhaps would. They continued to drive in silence for a while before Jefferson spoke again.

"Did they tell you what happened?" he asked.

Gold shook his head.

"Only that she'd had a car accident. I'm hoping Belle can tell me when I get there," he said. He didn't need to elaborate, they both knew what he was inferring by the remark. If Belle could tell him it meant she was conscious and compos mentis, and she was all right. Gold knew that the ice in the pit of his stomach wouldn't dissipate until he had seen Belle and spoken to her himself, no matter how many reassurances he might receive from anyone else. Thankfully, Jefferson understood this, and didn't try any more words of well-meant but ultimately useless comfort.

The journey to the hospital seemed to take an age, although it couldn't have been any longer than usual. Gold stared up at the foreboding building with its front façade of red brick and the sprawling glass and concrete extension behind the original Victorian part before hurrying into the accident and emergency entrance. The last time he'd been here had been a routine orthopaedic appointment only a week ago, and it wasn't looking any more welcoming now than it had done then. He hated hospitals, had done for years, and going into one never got any easier.

Especially not now, when Belle was the patient rather than himself.

Jefferson took a seat in the emergency department waiting room and calmly began reading the free pamphlets whilst Gold went up to the reception desk.

"I'm looking for Belle French," he said. "She was brought in after a car accident; I got a phone call…"

The nurse looked at her notes.

"Ah, you must be Mr Gold. I was the one who called you. I'll take you through to her now if you'd like to follow me. We're just waiting for the paperwork to be signed before we take Miss French upstairs to the ward. There's nothing wrong, per se, but delayed concussion can occur so often with head injuries and it's better to be safe than sorry."

The nurse drew back the curtain around one cubicle at the far end of the emergency ward, and Gold's prayers were answered. Belle was sitting cross-legged on the bed, most definitely alive and conscious, if a little battered. She was holding an icepack against the side of her head, and there were four steri-strips over a small cut on her hairline – it had evidently bled heavily onto her collar, which was looking like something from a horror film. But shirt collars were unimportant to Gold in the grander scheme of things at that moment in time.

"Belle…" he breathed.

She looked up at him, put down the icepack and held out her arms without a word.

"I'm all right, darling," she whispered as he practically crushed her against him, mindful of her head. "I'm all right. Thumping headache, but I'm all right."

Gold could only hold her, vaguely aware of the nurse leaving them in private. Belle stroked his back, petting him almost.

"I can't even begin to imagine how worried you've been. I would have phoned you myself but I was a bit busy being poked and prodded and x-rayed so they wouldn't let me."

"Idiots," Gold growled. Finally he released her so that he could look into her face. "I'm quite prepared to sue the entire lot of them for you if you want," he offered, although the threat didn't sound anywhere near as convincing as it normally could have done.

Belle rolled her eyes.

"They're only doing their jobs, Gold," she said. "Being poked and prodded and x-rayed is all part of being in hospital. If you really want to make yourself useful, you can go home and get me some pyjamas, since they're determined to keep me in." She looked up at him. "Oh, come here."

Belle patted the bed beside her and Gold sank down onto it gratefully. She put her arms around him again, and Gold couldn't quite believe it – she was the bruised and battered one who'd just had a traumatic experience, and yet she was the one offering comfort.

"What happened?" he asked presently.

"There was oil on the road," Belle said. "I skidded and ended up on the verge. The car should be fine, it's just a bit dented."

"I'm not worried about the _car_." It was Gold's turn to roll his eyes. "Honestly."

"I know. But I'm all right."

Gold nodded, finally trusting himself to believe it. Belle was all right, and even if she did have delayed concussion, she was in the best place.

"So who do I have to thank for getting you here in one piece and stopping you from dismembering the nurses?" Belle asked. It was a mark of how well she knew him that she recognised he wouldn't have been able to drive himself.

"I haven't threatened to dismember anyone," Gold protested.

"Yet," Belle added.

"Well, you never know." He paused. "It was Jefferson."

"I thought it might be." Belle rested her chin on his shoulder. "Buy him a bottle of wine from me on the way home."

Gold smiled weakly.

"I love you," he said after a few moments silence.

Belle squeezed him tighter and he reached round to put an arm around her. "I love you too."

There were unspoken words hiding behind the simple phrase. _I love you and I could have lost you_, Gold thought, but he pushed it aside for the moment. There was no point in dwelling on what terrible things might have been. Belle was here, holding him close, and she loved him, but more importantly, she was going to be all right. That was all that mattered, and for that, Gold was primordially grateful.


	10. Teacake

**Note:** I'm introducing a new pairing! And oh dear, it's got a sort-of OC in it… I am a big **Alice in Wonderland **fan, and I really like **Hatter/Alice**, so naturally, my little brain had to get whirring as to how I could transfer that to OUAT and the adorable Jefferson. So, without further ado, meet my OUAT/Cake'verse Alice…

**Tara Castle**, mentioned here in passing, is the 'Storybrooke-ified' name I give to **Rapunzel** – Tara comes from the Irish for 'high place'.

* * *

**Teacake**

"Are you going to drink that tea or just let it steep till it's ruined because you're distracted by your lover's underwear?"

Gold transferred his gaze from Belle to Ruby and gave the latter a withering glare. Ruby merely smiled sweetly in return and suppressed a laugh as Belle reached round and pulled her trouser waistband an inch higher to cover the top of her knickers.

"Stop gawping," she said without turning her attention from the coffee machine. "Nothing to see here."

It was a Tuesday, and Ruby was enjoying the banter that she never usually got to see. She had swapped shifts with Emma – Henry's school was closed due to a rather unfortunate sewage leak – and was party to the Tuesday morning routine that had formed in the first few weeks after Belle and Gold became an established couple. Gold worked late on Monday evenings; Belle would go over to the law office after her shift at Granny's ended, they'd spend the night together, and Gold would give Belle a lift to work the next morning, staying in the café until he had to go to his own work at nine.

Ruby was witnessing it for the first time, and her comments aside, she couldn't help but smile at the simple domesticity of the scene. Gold had hooked his cane over the top of the cake display and was leaning on the counter with his tea, watching Belle as she went about her usual early Tuesday morning tasks. Ruby pushed a spare takeaway cup along the counter towards Gold and he dropped the teabag into it.

"So," she began brightly. "What colour do you think Emma will dress us in to be her bridesmaids?"

"Yellow polka dots," muttered Gold. "On a lime green background."

"Don't be silly," came Belle's voice from under the coffee machine – it had been playing up for a couple of days now and she was determined to fix it without having to call Granny for back-up. She emerged and put her hands on her hips. "You're just sour because you were caught ogling."

"I wasn't _ogling_," Gold refuted. "I was merely… appreciating the view."

Ruby raised her eyebrows.

"So that's what the kids are calling it these days." She turned to Belle. "Is it always like this on a Tuesday morning?"

"Pretty much."

Ruby sighed wistfully. "I miss out on so much when I have a lie in. Never mind, I'll just have to make up for lost time now."

Before she could do so, however, the café door opened, and a blast of cold air heralded the arrival of another customer. Ruby looked up as a young blonde woman in a light blue coat was practically blown into the café on a gust of wind from the precinct entrance.

"Hello," she said breathlessly, trying to smooth her hair back into place and look professional. "Can you help me? I'm looking for Guildhall Law; I'm starting temp there today and I don't want to be late. This place is like a rabbit warren."

Ruby laughed as Gold pointed at the door she'd just entered through.

"Just over the way," he said.

"Oh thank God, I thought I was going to be late." She came towards the counter.

"So, who are you temping for?" Ruby asked. "We like to keep an eye on our regular customers… I mean our valued neighbours."

"It's just a secretarial role," the woman said. "Another girl from my agency did maternity cover there last year, but she refused to go back again – something about being terrified of Mr Gold – so I was drafted in as cover at the last minute. Could I have a cup of tea please?"

"English Breakfast?" Belle asked. The woman nodded and opened her mouth to speak again before closing it and leaning in over the counter.

"Do you, erm, do you know much about them?" she asked Ruby, her eyes flickering over to the solicitors' offices.

Ruby bit back a grin.

"Quite a bit." She glanced over the new arrival's shoulder at Gold and winked. "We have… inside sources."

"So, what are they like?" the blonde asked as Belle brought her tea over. "I'm Alice, by the way."

"Ruby. They're… Well, we've heard some interesting stories over the years."

"I heard some horror stories from Tara," Alice said conspiratorially.

"Well, they're probably all true." Ruby's voice was remarkably cheerful at the prospect. "And yes, before you ask, Mr Glass and Ms Mills are in a relationship. Some of the time."

"It's hardly a relationship," Gold mused. "More like friends with benefits. Actually, better make that enemies with benefits."

"To be honest, I'm more worried about Mr Gold," Alice murmured. "Tara said he throws things."

"Oh, he does," said Gold airily, hiding his smile in his cup. "He's a right terror."

"So I've heard." Alice gave another worried glance across at her new workplace. "Oh dear, I'm not looking forward to this."

"You'll be fine," said Ruby. "Now Ashley's back from maternity she takes care of all Mr Gold's tantrums. But if you're working for Ms Mills, well, Her Majesty's a different kettle of fish entirely."

"Oh no… Does she throw things too?"

"Only at Mr Glass," Gold said drily. "Might help if you're handy with a Hoover though. She has a predilection for using expensive, highly fragile objects as missiles."

"Stop it, both you." Belle came over to the counter. "You're scaring the poor girl. I'm Belle, and I'm sure you'll get on fine, Alice. They aren't all as black as they're painted."

Alice did not seem at all mollified by this, and the door opened at that moment to admit another customer.

"It's cold enough to freeze the you-know-whats off a brass monkey out there!" Jefferson rushed into the café and closed the door again quickly, holding his hat on with one hand.

"Morning, Jefferson," Gold called from the counter.

"Good morning, Mr Milliner," Ruby said. "We don't often see you in here unless you've had a shock and need a camomile tea."

"I have a shock, it's bloody freezing outside. Morning, Gold, see you pre-empted my idea of getting stoked up on tea before the day begins."

"Oh no…" Alice looked at Gold with an expression just short of 'mute terror'. "Gold… As in…"

Gold nodded and Alice buried her head in her hands.

"Did I miss something?" Jefferson asked, adding his teabag to the growing collection on the counter. Gold ignored the question and went straight into introductions.

"Jefferson, this is Alice, she's your new temp secretary. Alice, this is Jefferson Milliner; you'll be working for him."

Alice removed her face from her hands and looked up at Jefferson, who removed his hat with an absurdly chivalrous flourish and held out his hand.

"Pleased to meet you, Alice," he said.

Alice shook his hand, and as their eyes met, she smiled for the first time since she entered the café.

Ruby had never been witness to what Granny called a 'time stands still and everything goes wibbly' moment before, but she was fairly sure that she had just seen one. Jefferson returned Alice's smile and they stayed looking at each other for a fraction of a second too long. Alice broke the gaze with a nervous giggle, only then realising that she was still holding Jefferson's hand. They broke away suddenly, each taking half a step backwards, unable to meet the other's eyes.

"Yes, well, I, erm, the tea will be getting cold, and we really don't want to be late…" Jefferson began. Gold stepped into the breach.

"Why don't you take Miss…"

"Kingsleigh," Alice provided.

"Why don't you take Miss Kingsleigh over to the office and get her settled in," Gold suggested.

"Yes, an excellent idea." Jefferson gestured to the door. "Shall we, Alice?"

"Certainly. I'm so sorry, I'm new round here and I got lost…"

As they left the café to brave the cold again, Gold twisted round to plant both elbows on the counter.

"Well, if you wanted proof that love at first sight exists, that was it," he said.

"He'll have asked her out by the end of the week," Ruby agreed.

"Ah, but is dallying with one's secretary really wise?" Belle asked. "He might angst about that for a while. I say it'll be a month of tiptoeing round each other at least."

Ruby looked at Gold.

"Well, you know him the best. What do you think?"

"Hmm." Gold seemed to be giving the matter serious consideration. "Jefferson is generally an impulsive soul…" here Ruby grinned "…_except_," he added, and her face fell, "when Grace is in any way involved, in which case he is always generally cautious. I'll put in a bet for two weeks and a day."

"You're on." Ruby paused. "What does the winner get?"

"Tea," Gold said, draining his cup and unhooking his cane. "Now, I think I've given them enough time alone, and I too will be late if I don't get going." He leaned over the counter to kiss Belle. "See you later, love."

"Don't you dare scare Alice into leaving after less than a day!"Belle called after him as he left the café.

"There's true love at stake! Would I dream of such a thing?"

"Hmm."

The café door closed again and Ruby gave a squeal of delight. "Oh, I love it when we see people get together in our café. First you, now Jefferson."

"Don't forget that you and Archie also met under this roof," Belle added.

Ruby nodded. "Now all we need to do is find some rich widower for Granny and we'd be sorted." She paused. "Do you think she'd like Marco?"

Belle rolled her eyes and Ruby laughed, looking out of the window at the gale beyond. The wind of change was blowing, and love was blossoming in the precinct again.


	11. Chocca Mocha Cake

**Note:** I'm posting this before Valentine's Day as I won't have Internet access from now till the 17th and I didn't want to be late posting!

**Summary:** Valentine's Day, for **WhiteOrangeFlower** on AO3 who prompted 'Chocolate Mocha cupcakes for Valentine's Day' and **Wingless Demeter**, who wanted to see a Rumbelle and Red Cricket first Valentine's Day. There's not much Red Cricket in it, I'm afraid, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless.

Also, if you missed the tenth cupcake because of techy difficulties, please do go back and have a read, it is viewable now. :)

* * *

**Chocca Mocha Cake**

"Huh. Valentine's Day."

Thursday the fourteenth of February, and Emma was sitting in the now-closed café at the only table that they hadn't put the chairs on top of yet, staring despondently down at a single Valentine's cupcake that was left over from the day's sales. Belle brought over two cups of coffee and a knife and unceremoniously cut the little cake in half.

"I mean, I know it's not his fault, but seeing all the happy couples coming in and being ridiculously romantic, and Ruby not being here, it rubs it in a bit."

Graham and Emma had planned to go away for Valentine's Day, their first romantic break on their own since becoming a couple and then engaged in a comparatively short space of time, but Graham hadn't been able to get the time off work. Naturally, Emma had been quite put out when it was revealed that Archie was taking Ruby to Paris to celebrate the occasion.

"Drink your mocha," Belle said, "and eat your half of the cupcake. Coffee and chocolate can always make everything seem better."

Emma took a bite of her cake with a wan smile.

"So what's your excuse?" she asked. "How come you're here with me drowning your sorrows in mocha and cupcakes and not celebrating your first Valentine's with your significant other?"

Belle sipped her coffee. "Same as you. Work got in the way. He's in Plymouth for a case. It's a particularly tricky one, an adoption, and unfortunately 'it's Valentine's Day and I want to spend it in bed with my girlfriend' wasn't a valid excuse for missing all the important meetings." She picked at one of the red sugar hearts on top of the chocolate frosting and smiled. "He's promised to make it up to me, and if there's one thing that can be said of my Gold, he always honours his agreements."

Emma raised an eyebrow.

"So we won't be seeing you in tomorrow morning then," she asked drily. "I'll have to send Granny to pull you out of bed by your feet?"

Belle shook her head in despair.

"I shouldn't have said anything, you're as bad as Ruby," she muttered, before adding, "at least you seem to be feeling better now."

Emma nodded and finished her last mouthful of cupcake. "Have you heard anything from Ruby? If I know her, she'll be giving us regular updates."

"Surprisingly no," Belle said. "Perhaps she's being tactful considering your situation. Then again, perhaps she's aware of the fact that Archie's very shy and blushing really doesn't go with his hair, so she's keeping quiet for modesty's sake. I've had one text, this morning." She got out her phone and showed the message to Emma.

_Went to the Moulin Rouge last night. OMG, I had to cover Archie's eyes…_

"I'm sure we'll be getting an in depth report when she comes back on Saturday," Emma said.

"As long as we can fend off questions about our own lovelives," Belle added. "What did you do for Valentine's Day? Well, all four of us were working, Ruby."

Emma laughed. "At least we know they didn't forget completely," she said, indicating the large bouquet of white roses that Mary Margaret had delivered to Belle that morning. ("It's been mad," the little dark-haired florist had said. "I swear that next year I'm taking Valentine's Day off and making David do all the work.")

"I suppose that sometimes life has to take priority," Belle said. "It's just annoying that it's decided today is the day to do it."

It was, they had realised, the first Valentine's Day that all three friends were one half of a relationship, and before more quotidian things had come in the way, they'd been looking forward to comparing notes. Before, Belle's coupled up Valentine's Days had consisted of the usual flowers, card, moderately nice restaurant, and her single ones had been spent celebrating her independence at the pub.

Presently Emma looked at her watch.

"It's coming up to seven," she said. "I'd better go, I need to pick up Henry. He went to a friend's house after school but they might be wondering where I am now."

She made to go into the back room to collect her things, but before she could get there, the two waitresses were interrupted by a little knock on the glass door. Emma turned and her hands flew to her mouth; Belle glanced over her shoulder and smiled on seeing Graham standing outside the café, holding up a pink cardboard box and looking a little sheepish but extremely pleased with himself.

Emma rushed over to unlock the door and let him into the café.

"Nearest I could get to Paris," he said, presenting her with the box. Belle could see that it had come from the boutique French patisserie at the other end of the high street.

"Oh Graham…" Emma bore the box over to the counter and opened it carefully. "Millefeuille, selta, kirschtorte… Graham, you must have a slice of every cake in the shop in here!"

"Not _every _cake," Graham protested. "I know which ones you don't like."

Emma replied by kissing him.

"I love you," she said.

"I know," Graham replied, a hint of pride in his voice. He pulled her in for another kiss, one that Emma accepted readily before breaking off suddenly.

"I need to pick up Henry, I'm already late."

"No you don't," Graham said. "He's staying with Jamie tonight."

"But he hasn't got his pyjamas!" Emma protested.

Graham gave her a knowing look. "There's a lot I can do in two hours, Emma, even if I can't multitask quite as well as you do."

Emma sighed happily. "You really have thought of everything." She turned back to Belle, who nodded.

"Don't worry, I'll finish up here," she said in response to Emma's unspoken question. "You go on, your cakes'll be getting past their best and Graham has to go to work at three in the morning."

"Thanks, Belle. Graham, we'll never eat all this cake."

"Speak for yourself. I'm starving."

They said their goodbyes and left the café together, and Belle was alone with her thoughts as she did the last bits of tidying before locking up and taking her roses in the direction of home. She had no idea what time Gold would be back from his meetings. Maybe he'd be waiting for her when she got back to the flat. He didn't have a key, but Mrs Ginger could let him in. Perhaps he'd be waiting for her, with champagne on ice and her bed turned down and scattered with rose petals. Actually, on second thoughts, scrap the rose petals. Belle had never seen the point. All they did was get in the way and stick to hot, damp skin. But champagne on ice sounded good. And Gold in his shirtsleeves and no tie, off-duty and relaxed. Or, conversely, the tie but nothing else; Belle had never had a problem with that particular vision.

What she found, however, on turning the corner from the bus stop and feeling her heart flip on seeing Gold's car parked in the street outside her house, was none of these things. Namely because Gold was still outside the flat, engaged in an exchange with Mrs Ginger, who was hanging out of her bedroom window on the first floor.

"No," the landlady was saying. "No, absolutely not. Not after what happened last time. Belle's not in, come back tomorrow." Belle smiled, she was referring to the debacle with Gary back in November.

"Mrs Ginger, it's me." Gold's voice was betraying all the signs of an exasperation that could fast turn explosive. "We've met. Belle has formally introduced us. You know who I am, so will you please do me a favour and let me in, because I am freezing out here and the food's going cold."

"You brought food?" Belle came past him on the path and slipped her key into the front door. "You can definitely come in then." She opened the door and ushered him inside.

"Your landlady is something else," Gold muttered as he went into the kitchen and dumped the carrier bag he had with him onto the table. "I know that a Chinese takeaway on Valentine's Day is hardly the most impressive or romantic of gestures, but all the restaurants will be booked up and I'm too hungry to cook."

Belle kissed his cheek, pausing in her previous occupation of getting out the plates and cutlery.

"I'll make it up to you at the weekend, I promise," he said.

"Don't be silly," Belle said. "You're here, that's all that matters in the end. I don't need anything fancy as long as I've got you." She paused. "On the upside, all the restaurants will be empty and cheaper at the weekend. Everywhere hikes their prices up for the fourteenth."

Gold laughed. "I've corrupted you. I swear you weren't this cynical when we first met."

He reached into the carrier bag to produce a bottle of champagne. "At least I remembered that."

"Ah yes, the perfect accompaniment to prawn wontons and egg-fried rice," Belle teased.

Gold merely raised an eyebrow. "According to my esteemed Aunt Elvira, champagne goes with everything. Including, worryingly enough, gin."

"Had I not met your aunt, I wouldn't believe you," Belle said. She served out the food and brought it through to the living room, Gold following with the champagne and glasses. When everything was nicely laid out on the coffee table – she still hadn't bought a table-cloth – Belle sat back and admired her handiwork.

"Perfect," she said. "There's only one thing spoiling the picture." She reached across and undid Gold's tie, tossing it in the general direction of the door. She chinked her glass against his. "Happy Valentine's Day."

"Happy Valentine's Day," Gold echoed, pulling her in so that he could kiss her properly.

Belle rested her forehead against his after she broke away. Who needed a Parisian hotel room when you had an Ikea sofa and someone who could kiss you like that? She was incredibly fortunate to be in love with this man and have him love her back.

At length she pulled out of his arms and they began to eat.

"Successful day?" Belle asked.

"Yes, at last. After however many months of wrangling, not aided by their previous solicitor dropping dead from a heart attack in the middle of the case – God rest Mr Fothergill – Mr and Mrs Mason are now officially the parents of little Gail. Everything's been signed and sealed and she's moving in on Saturday."

"That's good news."

Gold nodded, a slightly faraway look in his eyes. Belle smiled. This was the reason, one of the reasons, why Gold had ended up specialising in family law. However much he said it was because he could make millions from messy divorce settlements, Belle knew that he was a softie at heart, and he did it for the children more than anything. Even the hardest and most ruthless of men had a weakness somewhere. She wondered… Perhaps it was because his own family had come apart that he wanted to see others put back together, the individual pieces becoming a whole. Belle smiled at the notion; it made sense in the grander scheme of things. She was no longer an insular person anymore, she was part of something wondrous and inexplicable and celebrated on this very day – love.

The meal over, Gold pulled Belle in close to his side.

"I have something for you," he said. "You don't have to take it yet if you don't want to, but it's for you nonetheless."

He reached over and took his wallet out of his coat pocket, and from this he took a key.

"It's my house key," he continued. "Belle, I love you, and I want to come home to you every night. And if you don't want to live in my house, then maybe we can find somewhere new, together."

Belle smiled, her heart racing.

"I love your house," she said. "I love you." They'd talked about living together a couple of times, and Ruby was constantly asking her when she was going to move out of her little flat and into the big pink house on the hill once and for all, but she hadn't been expecting this. "I love you, and I love your house, and there's nothing I'd want more than to make it our home."

So what if they'd only had Chinese takeaway on the sofa? It was by far and away the best Valentine's Day of Belle's life so far.


	12. Sponge Cake

**Note:** All credit for the concept of the 'man drawer' goes to that legend of comedy, Michael McIntyre.

**Summary:** A snapshot from Belle and Gold's life in the same house.

* * *

**Sponge Cake**

Gold couldn't deny it; the addition of Belle was what had made his house truly a home. The rooms seemed lighter and warmer now that there was evidence that she occupied them as well, her books and trinkets in amongst his own, her family pictures interspersed with his. Over the past weeks it had cemented their togetherness, their status as a couple. Knowing that he wasn't coming back to an empty house after a particularly trying day gave him the will to continue. Gold never drank on the job, but it was on days like this that he understood why Sid and Fox did.

He'd been in court all day, the majority of it in the same hearing, a particularly volatile custody argument. He'd been standing for the best part of the afternoon, and as a result, his leg was killing him. It was with a dry smile that he gingerly got out of the car and limped painfully up the steps towards the front door. Even if he'd wanted whiskey, he couldn't have it, Doctor's orders on increasing the strength of his prescription the previous week.

Yes, it was the thought of Belle that kept him going, but as he entered the house, there was no sign of her.

"Belle?" he called softly, looking into the rooms on the ground floor. He put the kettle on, half-expecting to find a note propped up against it telling him she was at Ruby's, but there was nothing.

"Belle?" he called again, louder this time. He leaned back against the worktop to ease his leg. There were some times in life when only the old-fashioned methods of 'strong tea and a hot bath' would work to soothe his complaining joints. He grimaced; it was definitely getting worse. He fancied he could almost feel the titanium pins in his bones like little shards of ice.

"Hello darling."

She was upstairs, and Gold took his tea and ventured back into the hall.

"Where are you?"

"I'm in the bath."

Dammit. Gold sighed and began up the stairs, knowing that if he stretched out on the sofa as he was more than a little tempted to do, he'd never get off it again.

"Gold?" Belle's voice came through the bathroom door as he passed it. "Something wrong?"

He sighed again. _Yes, you're in my bath_, but it wasn't his, it was theirs now, and she had every right to it if she wanted it. _Yes, I'm in agony_, but that sounded a bit dramatic and he didn't want to worry her. He closed his hand over the doorknob –it wasn't locked – and considered going in, but decided against it. He felt incredibly old at that moment in time, and the image of the middle-aged lecher leering at the beautiful young maiden in her bathtub was a strong and unwelcome one.

"No, no," he replied eventually. "Just a difficult day."

He moved away into the bedroom and collapsed onto the bed, closing his eyes with a small groan akin to a balloon with a slow puncture. Cohabitation was all about compromise, Gold knew that; he was no stranger to it. All the same, ten years alone was a long time to have to get used to things, to routine, to being able to have a bath whenever he wanted.

He reached out and rummaged blindly in his bedside drawer for something topical to ease the dull ache that was beginning at the base of his spine as a result of carrying his weight unevenly, overcompensating for his leg. Normally he took care to try and keep his carriage as upright as possible for this very reason, but today he'd given up and was paying the price.

Never mind that the application of such medication required the removal of clothing, which in turn required verticality, something that Gold wasn't sure he could manage now that he was nicely horizontal.

"Is this what you're looking for?"

Warm fingers pressed the cold tube into his hand and Gold opened his eyes to see Belle hovering over him, wrapped in a towel. The few tendrils of hair that had escaped her loose bun were curling in the steam from the bathroom, and there were traces of bubble bath on her damp skin.

"When I said I was in the bath, I meant it more as an invitation than a statement," Belle admitted before giving a sly grin. "Come on in, the water's lovely."

"Belle," Gold began weakly, because he was fairly sure that she had never looked quite as lovely as she did then. "Belle, my leg's giving me seven shades of hell."

"All the more reason for you to get in a hot bath then." She grabbed his hands and pulled him into a sitting position. "Come on, it'll be going cold. You can bring your tea if you want."

"What I mean is," Gold continued as she practically dragged him off the bed (he'd learned he was pretty powerless when Belle was in one of these determined mindsets), "is that I'm really not in the mood for…"

Belle pressed her fingers against his lips.

"It's just a bath," she said. "No promises or expectations. Just a nice, hot bath, and I'll see if I can't work some of the knots out of your shoulders."

She slipped one arm round his waist so that he could lean on her rather than his cane, and they made their way back through to the bathroom; Belle had dotted tea-lights around in room in a way that made it seem cosy rather than seductive. Somehow they managed to get his clothes off without either of them falling over, and before Gold knew it, Belle was back in the bath, encouraging him to lie between her knees and relax.

He could only obey, and he had to admit as he leaned back against Belle's chest and felt the heat of the water permeate through to his tired bones, it was blissful relief.

Belle curled her arms round his neck and rested her chin on the top of his head.

"Bad day in court?" she asked. Gold nodded and explained the case succinctly. "Whose side are you on?"

"Legally, I'm working for the mother." Gold let out a long breath and closed his eyes. "Personally, I'm not sure either of them are fit to be parents in my opinion."

He felt Belle's sigh rather than heard it.

"Well, whatever happens, it'll be for the best. I'm sure you'll all make the right decision in the end between you."

"I hope so." Gold gave a wan smile and twisted to look at Belle. "You're lovely," he said. "Beautiful inside and out."

Belle bent to kiss him.

"Thank you, kind sir," she said. "So are you." She grinned. "Do you want to hear about my rather interesting day to take your mind off yours?"

Gold's brow furrowed, then he groaned.

"I forgot," he said. "Sorry. Go on. How was it?"

Belle, Ruby and Emma had had their first dress fittings for the wedding that afternoon, and the two bridesmaids had finally got to see Emma's gown.

"I feel like a pin cushion," Belle admitted, "but it was good. We had a good laugh."

"And are you, as I suspected, wearing lime green with yellow polka dots?"

She smacked his shoulder.

"Of course not. We're in burgundy, I already told you that."

Gold shrugged. "Emma might have changed her mind at the last minute. Perhaps looking like a tennis court is in this season." This earned him another bat round the shoulder. "Oi! I know massage involves pummelling, but I really don't think it's meant quite like that."

"Of course, darling." Belle kissed the top of his head before pressing the heels of her hands into his shoulder blades, beginning to rub away the tension there. Gold gave a satisfied sigh and let his head loll forward, closing his eyes. "So what's it like then? The main event?"

"You mean Emma's dress?"

"Aye."

Belle's hands stilled momentarily, and there was a playful note in her voice when she spoke. "I think I ought to leave you to find out for yourself," she said. "The wedding's not _that_ far away now."

"I'm not the groom," Gold protested. "It can't do me any harm." He glanced behind him to see Belle raising an eyebrow.

"I think you're far too interested in the girly aspects of this wedding, Mr Gold," she teased. "It's lovely," she added. "Quite simple, but that suits Emma, I think. I've only ever seen her in a dress once, and that was at the ball." She paused and her fingers continued their soothing trail over his shoulders. "She wouldn't be comfortable in a lot of flounce. It wouldn't be right. It wouldn't be Emma."

Gold wondered. As the past few weeks had gone on and Emma's forthcoming wedding seemed to pervade into Belle's life more and more, so he was ever more frequently reminded of the ring secreted away in what Belle affectionately called his 'man drawer'. ("You've got a pill drawer, a sock drawer and a man drawer," she had said of his bedside cabinet on one occasion. "Medication, socks and random bits of useless junk that you keep just in case it comes in handy. Everything a man needs. Screwdrivers with heads you'll never use, dead batteries, keys for things you don't even own any more...") It was about the only place that he could virtually guarantee that she wouldn't find it by accident.

He was still looking for the right moment, and Aunt Elvira's helpfully dropping hints every so often really wasn't helping. That he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Belle was a no-brainer; he'd known that having only been with her for a few weeks, and right now he would be most content to spend the rest of his life right here in the bath with her wonderful hands on his back. But, as with every time he found himself thinking about it, now was not the right time. The first rule of proposing, Gold thought dryly – don't ask when your intended is drunk, hungover, tired, asleep or PMT – could just as easily be applied to the one doing the proposing. He'd take Belle off to Gretna Green right there and then if he thought that would be appropriate, but she deserved better than that. Her first engagement and marriage had been a rush job with no thought in it. Timing had to be perfect.

"Feeling better?" Belle asked presently, cutting through his thoughts. He nodded and relaxed back against her. The time was coming. It wasn't here yet, but Gold knew when it would come. Their nine-month anniversary was coming up, and the particular occasion would be perfect.

There was just one thing left to do, really, before he could begin to plan his moment; a necessary task, however unpleasant the prospect was. Gold was old-fashioned for the most part, and liked to think of himself as a gentleman.

As such, he was going to have to ask Moe for Belle's hand…


	13. Honey Cake

**Note:** Well, wouldn't you just know it? I sit down to write a chapter about Belle getting ill and lo and behold, I end up going home from work with a fever and spending the majority of the next sixteen hours asleep. Maybe I should write a chapter about her winning the lottery…

**Summary: **Belle is unwell and Gold takes care of her, prompted by **DuskTillDawn95**.

* * *

**Honey Cake**

Belle knew she was coming down with something when she woke up at four in the morning feeling as if she was both roasting alive and freezing at the same time. She peeled herself away from Gold – the man was honest to goodness a human hot water bottle – and curled up on her own side of the bed, feeling her throat slowly turning into sandpaper. Oh, brilliant…

She squeezed her eyes tight shut and buried her face in the pillow. Belle hated being ill – well, it was no-one's favourite pastime – but now she had a second person to make her feel even more miserable. In Belle's experience, men did not handle sick women very well. Gary had stayed away from her like she had the plague every time she so much as sneezed, which had not helped matters, and her dad went to the opposite extreme, not leaving her alone at all.

Belle also hated the fact that she seemed to lose all perception of time when she was ill. She was certain that she had been lying awake the entire night, and suddenly, the alarm was going off and there was a Scottish accent muttering curses at it, like every morning. Gold leaned over and kissed her ear.

"Time to get up, love," he said. Belle shook her head with a little noise that she hoped signified 'no'. Gold just chuckled. "Ok, ten more minutes."

It didn't help that she was on the early shift at the café and had to be there to open up for eight o'clock. Belle curled up in on herself further and groaned. She was not going to work today. No way, no how.

Two seconds later, Gold returned. Annoying man, he'd said ten minutes.

"Belle, love."

He kissed her cheek, and Belle had to concede that since he now smelled of shampoo and his chin was smooth rather than whiskery, he'd been away for longer than two seconds and it was just sleep and her sense of time playing up again.

"Belle?" Gold's voice was concerned and Belle pulled the covers up to her nose. "Belle, you're not well."

"Well done, Sherlock," she croaked. "Whatever gave you that impression?"

She felt the weight on the bed shift.

"Shut up and let me kiss you."

Belle shook her head and opened one eye.

"I'm not in the right shape," she grumbled. "Do you want the dreaded lurgy too?"

Gold just raised an eyebrow.

"I meant your forehead, to check for fever. But I'd quite happily kiss you even when you are snotty and feverish."

"Charmer." She conceded and turned onto her back to let Gold press his lips against her forehead. He nodded.

"You're burning up. So," he continued as she curled up on her side again, "do you want looking after or leaving be?"

"Ugh," was Belle's reply. Having had experience of both, she didn't want either. "Happy medium?" she suggested feebly.

Gold squeezed her shoulder.

"I'll use my initiative. I've got to go into work, I've got meetings, but I'll try and get you sorted before abandon you for divorces and Wills."

He collected his cane from where it was hooked over the foot of the bed and left the room. This time, though, he seemed to take an age and then some to return.

"Right," he said, depositing the tray he was carrying on her bedside table. "Lemon and ginger tea with honey, water and toast if you want it." He moved away and Belle heard him rooting through his medication. Most people kept their pills in the bathroom or the kitchen, but when Gold had made the executive decision to keep his painkillers within a reachable-from-the-bed distance, he'd also decided 'what the hell' and moved the entirety of the medicine cabinet in there. It had been both a blessing and a curse; Belle couldn't count the number of times she'd gone into that particular drawer in search of condoms and come up with three boxes of pills of varying description before reaching her goal.

"Paracetamol," he concluded, placing the packet on the tray next to the other items. He brushed a damp curl out of her face and gave her a soft smile in the dim light peeking through the curtains. "Anything else I can get you before I go?"

"Ring Ruby and tell her I'm not coming in."

Gold nodded and kissed her flushed cheek.

"Get well soon, Belle."

She closed her eyes, hearing him pottering about, and contented herself to sleep off and on for the rest of the day, only venturing out of bed to the bathroom and the kettle.

Gold rang at lunchtime.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

"Not really," Belle replied, and went to get herself some more water before pulling the covers back up to her stuffed nose.

When Belle next woke, she found herself curled up next to a large hot water bottle. On further investigation, it turned out to be Gold's leg. She raised her head up slightly to find him sitting on the bed beside her, reading his paperwork.

She thumped his hip weakly.

"No working in the bedroom," she croaked. "Bed room for sleeping and sex only. That's _your_ rule."

"I'm not really working." He shuffled the papers into a vague semblance of a neat stack and stroked Belle's hair. "Feeling better?"

"A bit." Belle snuggled up against him. "What time is it? How long have you been back?"

"It's just gone four, and I've been back about ten minutes." He nodded over to her bedside table. "I made you some more tea."

"Lemon and ginger?"

"With honey. Or I could put whiskey in if you'd prefer." He paused. "I do. Best way to cope with the 'flu is to spend the duration of the illness drunk."

Belle laughed and wriggled around until she was in the vaguest semblance of a sitting position, and sipped her tea.

"You're a good little caretaker," she said.

Gold's returning smile was somewhat sad.

"No I'm not. I'm on autopilot. Slipped back into parent-mode. It was really quite worrying how easy it was. I've gone down the lines of 'treat you like a twelve-year-old and hope for the best'." He put the papers down on the covers between them. "I used to take care of Bae when he was ill. Liz is a midwife; she worked odd shifts and couldn't exactly come home in the middle of a birth, so it was easier for me to work from home and look after Bae. And obviously, when it was just him and me… I used to work on his bed like this."

Belle leaned her head against his upper arm; she was too slouched to reach his shoulder.

"It must be odd, looking after me."

"You're a much better patient," Gold said with a chuckle. "You're quieter and you don't get quite as bored."

Belle decided it was time to change the subject.

"So what's all this then if it isn't really work?" she asked, indicating the papers.

Gold showed her the top of the stack. It was a CV belonging to a Mr Philip Desmond.

"Fox has asked me to take a trainee," he said, with a slight grimace. "We need someone to take on the simple cases with Dawn; we've needed someone for a long time. We'll be understaffed as it is when Fox retires in a couple of months and Regina takes his place as senior partner. Sid's already got Dawn, Her Majesty can't be trusted with trainees, and neither Jefferson nor Jones has been qualified long enough to take one, so the honour unfortunately falls to me."

Belle raised an eyebrow at him.

"So Regina can't be trusted with trainees, but you can? Gold, everyone knows the horror stories that get passed around between the temp secretaries when Ashley goes on leave. Tara Castle refused to come back, she was that scared of you. I pity the poor unfortunate soul who gets you as their mentor."

Gold looked affronted, but only mildly.

"The other trainees I've taken on during my career all turned out fine. Slightly shellshocked, but physically unharmed."

Belle remembered the tale he had told Dawn of one of his trainees losing a decree absolute. She tried to laugh, but it came out as a rather pathetic sounding cough.

"I'd hate to see what Regina did to her trainees if that's the state yours end up in," she grumbled, snuggling back down under the covers and closing her eyes. This was a good happy medium, she decided. It was nice to have company in her misery without feeling herself completely stifled by worry. She wondered if it was just a parent thing. Gold was in self-confessed parent-mode, but Belle wasn't his child, she was his lover, and she doubted he'd have joked about adding a shot of his Glenmorangie to the tea if the honey didn't work with Bae. Her dad, well, she couldn't really blame him for his reaction. Her mother had died when she was still young – just twenty-seven years old, younger than Belle was now – and naturally he was petrified of losing his daughter in the same way. She guessed that Jefferson would be the same with Grace, having lost her mother so young.

So she dozed off her cold, feeling Gold's arm around her and occasionally hearing him rustle his papers. Presently he squeezed her shoulders.

"I'm going downstairs. Give me a shout if you need anything."

Belle nodded without opening her eyes. She continued to sleep on and off through the evening, eventually waking up suddenly and completely to find the room pitch black and a warm, pyjama-clad body asleep beside her. Damn her sense of timing, or rather the lack thereof. She wasn't going to get back to sleep in a hurry; her body had decided it was going to stick to the old adage of 'a cold has to get worse before it can get better' and she was feeling rougher than she'd been all day, and wide awake on top of it.

"If you toss and turn any more you'll end up on the floor," grumbled a low voice from the duvet-covered shape that hadn't moved in the last half-hour, despite the number of times she'd accidently whacked him whilst trying to get comfortable. "Mainly because I'll have kicked you out of bed for being annoying."

"I'm ill," Belle croaked . "I can't help it."

Gold rolled over to face her and opened his eyes blearily.

"At least fevered insomnia was one thing I never had to worry about with Bae, what with sleeping in a different room. Except on the few occasions he managed to kick the wall so hard it made my headboard vibrate." He reached out and touched her flushed cheek. "Come on, I know what'll help."

He got out of bed and limped over to the window, pulling the curtains back and pushing the sash up before gesturing for her to join him.

"Don't tell me you'll catch cold, because you've already caught one," he said. "And don't tell me _I'll_ catch cold, because I'm more likely to do that staying in a nice, warm, unventilated room full of your germs," he added matter-of-factly. Belle got out of bed and joined him at the window. The cold air felt lovely on her hot face.

"What are we going to do with you?" Gold murmured. Belle gave a weak smile.

"Love me?" she suggested.

"That's easy enough."

Belle didn't know how long they stayed like that at the window, leaning on the sill, but presently she felt Gold shiver and move away.

"I've got court in the morning; I'm going back to bed." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, even though she hadn't washed her hair for a couple of days and her locks were still damp with sweat. "I love you. Even when you're snotty and feverish and elbowing me in the back."

Belle smiled, remaining at the window for a few minutes until she felt fatigue begin to settle in her limbs. One of Granny's pearls of wisdom had always been that if a man couldn't love you when you were sick, he wasn't worth keeping.

Gold had definitely proved his worth today.

* * *

**I think it's definitely a parent thing, not being one myself. Gold knows it's only a cold, it's not going to kill her; I don't think that in this AU he'd over-react to Belle being ill quite as much as he might in the canon. ;)  
**


	14. Wedding Cake, First Tier, Part One

**Disclaimer:** Ruby's 'stand well clear' speech comes courtesy of my brother (a legend in his own lifetime), who very nearly said this during our cousin's wedding…

Quick reminder – this is set in England, with British wedding traditions.

**Note:** Today, I bring you a special offer from the bakery. TWO cupcakes for the price of ONE!

**Summary: **Emma's wedding as requested by Hermitess [AO3], and MyraValhallah [FF. net], who wanted a Gremma chapter.

* * *

**Wedding Cake – First Tier**

**Part One**

"Oh Henry, I can't do it."

"Don't be silly, of course you can."

"But!"

"No buts. Do you love Graham?"

"Well, of course I do."

"And I know he loves you. So what's the problem?"

Belle laughed, and Emma couldn't exactly blame her. The three women were sitting in Emma's bedroom, putting the finishing touches to the bride's hair. Henry was sitting on the bed ready in his suit, looking far suaver than any ten-year-old had any business to look, being the calm voice of reason to his increasingly nervous mother.

"It's just all those people," Emma said. "Maybe I should have taken Graham's dad up on his offer to give us the petrol money to go to Gretna Green and throw in a free fridge-freezer."

Ruby rolled her eyes and gave Emma's coiffeur a final spritz of hairspray.

"Don't be ridiculous," Henry said. "Once you get in the church you won't notice all the people, it'll just be you and Graham and the vicar."

"Where do you get all this philosophy from?" Emma asked her son. "You're only ten!"

Henry shrugged. "It's the same advice you gave me when I had stage fright in the school nativity play when I was six."

"Come on, Emma," Belle said. "If Henry says you can do it, then you can do it. We'll be right behind you. Literally."

"So don't think of turning tail and running," Ruby warned. She affected the nasal tones of a train station announcer. "Ladies and gentlemen, please stand well clear of the edges of the pews as the approaching bride is not scheduled to stop at this altar."

Belle smacked her friend's shoulder. "Ruby, you are not helping."

Presently, there was a knock at the front door and Henry jumped up to get it.

"You aren't supposed to see Mum till the wedding!" Emma heard him exclaim.

"I know," came Graham's voice. "I just wanted to see if she's ok."

"She's getting her running shoes on for a quick getaway!" Ruby called down the stairs.

"Ruby!" yelled Belle, Emma and Henry in unison.

"Sorry!"

There was a timid knock on the bedroom door.

"It's all right," said Graham through the wood. "I'm not coming in. I just wanted to check how you're doing."

Emma got up from her dressing table and went over to the door, her fingers hovering over the handle, in two minds about opening it or not. She'd never held much with all this superstition nonsense, but at the same time, she was nervous enough already without tempting fate.

"I'm fine," she said. "Better now you're here."

"Well, I'll have to go in a minute." There was a pause. "It's still not too late to back out and hitch to Gretna Green if you want."

"I don't think Granny would appreciate her catering going to waste," Emma said. There had been some more cynical souls who had wondered if the wedding was actually going to take place. Whilst no-one had any doubts that Emma and Graham truly loved each other, they all knew that Emma was nervous about being the centre of attention at her wedding. She had come through so much of her life on her own that she wasn't used to having a big fuss made of her.

"Well, I've got something for you," Graham said. The door opened a fraction and his hand appeared round it, holding a slim box. "To complete your set."

"Something blue?" Emma asked. She had everything else. Something new – her dress. Something old – the necklace she'd worn every day for as long as she could remember. Something borrowed – her veil, a square of vintage muslin loaned by Graham's mother.

"Well, I know how you like to do things properly," Graham said. Emma flipped the box open and burst out laughing on seeing what was inside.

"Did you actually buy this?" she asked.

"Yes!" Graham sounded slightly hurt at the accusation. "I may have bought it online using my cousin's credit card, but I did buy it."

"What _is_ it?" Ruby asked.

Emma held up the contents of the box – a blue lace garter.

"Thank you," she called through the door.

"My pleasure. Since I'm the one who'll be flinging it later, I thought I may as well go for it."

Emma laughed and came back to sit at the dressing table, hitching her dress up to her knees so that she could slip the garter on. "Well, as long as you aim it at Archie."

"Hey!" Ruby said. "I don't want my Archie being pelted with other women's undergarments, thank you!"

There was a pause after the laughter had died down.

"I'll see you at the altar then," said Graham's voice through the door.

"I'll see you then." Emma was gripped again by a sudden fear. She was used to running. She was good at running away from scary situations, and she couldn't think of anything more scary than walking into that church and having everyone's eyes on her. It wasn't that she didn't want to marry Graham, and it wasn't even that she didn't want to do it in front of all their friends and family – she was quite happy to let the entire world know that Graham loved her and she loved him. It was just… This was an unknown. Emma had only been to one wedding in her life before, and she felt it slightly overwhelming that her second ever experience of a marriage ceremony was her own. Put bluntly, she was terrified that something was going to go wrong.

"I love you," she added, feeling that it was very important to say it just in case something did go wrong.

"I love you too. See you soon."

Graham's footsteps became ever quieter as he went down the stairs again.

"I'll wait downstairs, Mum," Henry said. "So you and Belle and Ruby can do… girly stuff."

Emma managed a weak laugh at that statement as Ruby clipped in her veil.

"There," her friend said. "You're ready, and you look beautiful, Emma Swan. And remember; Henry's right. Once you get in there, you won't be nervous anymore."

The three friends sat in silence for a while, just enjoying each other's company. It was, after all, a momentous day for them all.

Presently they heard the purr of an engine winding down outside the house, and a scrabble of feet as Henry rushed up the stairs.

"The car's here!" he exclaimed, careering into Emma's bedroom. "It's amazing!"

Emma peered out of the window and smiled. As much as she would have been happy to drive to the wedding in her little yellow Volkswagen, Henry, of all people, had put his foot down. If she wasn't going to have a horse-drawn carriage, which was his first suggestion, then she at least needed a nice car with ribbons on. "You only get one wedding," he'd said. "You might as well go the whole hog. And no-one can drive in a wedding dress."

When Emma had weakly said that she and Graham were stretching their wages as it was, her son – ever scheming, ever practical and ever determined for his mother to have the happy ending he knew she deserved – had blithely suggested that she ask Gold: "because he's a lawyer and must know people with nice cars who owe him favours," being the reasoning.

Still marvelling at Henry's capacity for engineering things, Emma had nonetheless asked, and sure enough, Gold had called in a favour and produced a former client who was willing to act as chauffeur for the day. Emma was fairly certain that, given just the car and the cake, without any of the rest of the day that went between the two, Henry would have called the wedding a complete success.

It was a bit of a squeeze, but soon bride, bridesmaids and Henry were seated in the back of the car, and they reached the church far too soon for Emma's liking.

Oh, pull yourself together, she told herself crossly as she got out. There's nothing to be scared of. You're only getting married, for heaven's sake…

One of Graham's cousins, acting as an usher, poked his head round the church door.

"Ready?" he asked.

Emma glanced over her shoulder at Belle and Ruby, the former giving her an encouraging nod and the latter a thumbs up.

She nodded to the usher, who opened the doors fully to let her in.

Emma took a deep breath and stepped into the church as the music began to play. She was holding Henry's hand so tightly her knuckles were as white as her gown.

"Mum!" Henry hissed under his breath. "You're cutting off the blood supply in my fingers!"

"Sorry," Emma whispered back, and tried to loosen her grip slightly. Truth be told, having Henry by her side was an absolute blessing. Whilst it might have looked odd to the observer for the bride to be given away by her young son, Emma knew that Henry was probably the only thing keeping her from running up the aisle, grabbing Graham and running full pelt for the Scottish border. Maybe Gold knew someone in Gretna Green whom he could forewarn of their arrival.

But suddenly, she was there, at the front of the church, and Ruby was holding out a hand for her bouquet with an impish smile, and Henry had gone to sit beside Archie, and there was Graham, grinning as if all his Christmases had come at once.

And in that moment, nothing else mattered. Just as Henry had promised. It was just Emma, Graham and the vicar. When Graham took her hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze, Emma no longer felt the weight of everyone's eyes on her, no longer worried about forgetting what she was supposed to say, and she began to relax for the first time that day. She wondered if she should have let Graham come in when he'd delivered her garter; maybe his presence would have calmed her down before.

"We are gathered here today to witness the joining together in holy matrimony of Emma and Graham," the vicar began. "If anyone knows of any just cause or impediment why these two should not be wed today, please speak now or forever hold your peace."

A small part of Emma was still worried that someone was going to object, but there was silence, and the vicar smiled and moved on. Emma let out a long breath that she wasn't even sure why she'd been holding. Graham squeezed her fingers again.

"It's all going fine," he whispered, once the first part of the ceremony was over and they could sit down during the readings. Although they were marrying in a church, the same church that most of Graham's family had married in, neither had made any secret of the fact that they weren't strictly religious, and they had opted to keep their readings from more popular texts. True to form, Astrid managed to trip up on her way to the lectern, and only the vicar's lightning reflexes managed to stop her careening into the altar. The ensuing ripple of mirth that ran round the room (thankfully Astrid saw the funny side of it too) was enough to set Emma's mind at ease once more. Everything was going well. There was no need to worry. There was no need to run.

Astrid finished reading her passage from 'Three Men in a Boat' and it was time for the most important part of the wedding. Emma and Graham stood once again. Emma took a deep breath. She wasn't going to forget her vows. Nothing was going to go wrong.

"Emma, please repeat after me: I, Emma, take you, Graham, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, according to God's holy law, this is my solemn vow."

Emma repeated the vow, and it was only after Graham had slid the wedding ring onto her finger that she realised that her active part in the wedding was over. She'd said all that she needed to say. There was no more reason for stage-fright. She'd done it. They'd done it. They were married.

"Graham and Emma are now beginning their married life together; we hope that they may have loving assistance from their family, the constant support of friends, and a long life with good health and everlasting love. In so much as Graham and Emma have consented to live forever together in wedlock, and have witnessed the same before this company, declared by the exchanging of vows and rings, I pronounce that they are husband and wife."

Graham didn't have to be told that he could now kiss the bride, and Emma wasn't sure if she heard a cheer erupt in the church, or if it was just her imagination. She didn't care.

Graham Wolff and Emma Swan were husband and wife, and Emma had never been happier.


	15. Wedding Cake, First Tier, Part Two

**Note: **Part two of today's update.

**Summary:** So many readers asked for this cupcake, so here it is: the one you've all been waiting for.

* * *

**Wedding Cake – First Tier**

**Part Two**

The evening was definitely drawing to a close. The newly-weds had been safely waved off on their honeymoon and people were beginning to drift away from the hotel in dribs and drabs, only the die-hard core of drinkers remaining in the bar and getting increasingly rowdy. Belle stayed standing in the driveway waving long after the taillights of the taxi had disappeared onto the main road. The function room had been becoming unbearably warm and stuffy, and Belle was glad of the breeze preventing what could have been the beginnings of a headache. One of Graham's many cousins – the man had a seemingly interminable supply of them, a true wolf pack – had caught Emma's bouquet, and, as promised, Graham had flung the garter at Archie, much to Ruby's consternation. Granny had surpassed herself with the cake, which although not a three-tiered meringue-iced masterpiece, was never the less intricately decorated with tiny handmade sugar decorations in all sorts of shapes that reflected Emma and Graham's lives, and topped not with the traditional bride and groom, but with a white swan and wolf.

All in all, it had been a wonderful day, and Belle's heart was swollen with joy. She was also, although she'd never admit it, feeling a pang of yearning for her own wedding. She had never had the chance for a proper wedding; Emma and Graham's modest celebration was a far cry from the lavish ceremonies that she'd dreamed of when she was younger, but it was still a _celebration_, an event to be remembered, not a simple legal binding performed for necessity rather than any real desire.

Gold put an arm around Belle's shoulders to pull her into his side.

"Shall we go for a wander?" he asked. "Make sure we're well away when the drunken karaoke starts."

Belle nodded her assent and slipped her arm through his, letting him lead them through the gardens away from the drive. She sighed happily and leaned into Gold's side. "It was a lovely day. I'm glad everything went according to plan. I'm not quite sure inviting the vicar back to partake of the reception was quite the right idea though. I think the best man's speech may have shocked him a bit."

"Well, they weren't to know," said Gold. "Actually, Graham should probably have known. Ah well, I'm sure he's heard worse in his time." Belle looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

"Well, ok, maybe not. We should probably be grateful that Archie was on hand to cover Henry's ears in some places."

Graham's cousin's speech had been… interesting, would probably be the best way of describing it. It had certainly left poor Graham doing a passable impression of a tomato. Whilst said cousin's wife had done an admirable job of censoring it, there had still been more than enough innuendo to raise a few eyebrows, most of the jokes coming from the fact Graham was a policeman and had been known to fell dangerous criminals with his truncheon. Mind you, Ruby had done much the same for Emma in her own speech. In the absence of a father-of-the-bride to give the traditional speech to embarrass the newly-wed wife just as the best man ribbed the groom, Ruby had been elected to do the honours instead. Belle giggled again at the memory and nearly toppled over on her spindly heels. Gold caught her.

"You want to be careful, my darling, as people will begin to think you've had too much champagne."

"Well, we're celebrating," Belle said, her voice as placid as if she was stating the weather. "It's a wedding, after all."

"We could be celebrating something else, as well," Gold said softly. Belle looked up at him.

"What?"

"Oh, not yet, not yet. I'll tell you later." There was the faintest smirk playing on his lips, and Belle got the distinct impression that he was planning something. She looked around at their surroundings, still headed further and further away from the hotel.

"Do you actually have a destination in mind?" she asked playfully. "If I didn't know you were a gentleman, Mr Gold, I'd be rather inclined to think you were intending to ravish me behind the rose bushes."

With impeccable timing, there was a very human sounding squeal and giggle from the nearest clump of greenery, and the two wanderers picked up their pace a little to move past. Belle wasn't sure, but she thought that the voice had belonged to Astrid.

"Much as that sounds like an excellent idea, Miss French, I think such a course of action may be frowned upon by the proprietors of the establishment. We'll leave the ravishing till we're at home, eh? But I'm sure we could do it behind the rose bushes there if you wanted."

"Your rosebushes leave a little to be desired, though," Belle pointed out. "They need nurturing. We wouldn't get much coverage."

"Hmm… Put your posy in a vase on the mantelpiece and use artistic license?" Gold suggested.

Belle looked down at the posy of dark red roses in her free hand that she'd been carrying for most of the day. "It'll do."

They were nearing the end of the path now, and Belle was beginning to wonder quite what Gold was planning.

"Seriously, Gold, where are we going?" she asked.

"Right there." He nodded towards the end of the path. Belle squinted through the dim evening light to see a little wishing well tucked in amongst the trees. She looked at him and narrowed her eyes.

"What are you planning?" she asked. Her heart skipped a little, not wanting to give voice to the thought in case her hope was unfounded and she was disappointed.

"I have no idea," Gold confessed. Belle could tell he was nervous behind the easy demeanour he'd fallen into over the last few minutes. "I just saw this place earlier on, and thought, 'why not, it's as good a place as any…' Oh dear, I haven't thought this through."

Belle tried to squash her grin, but it didn't work.

"Come on," she said and slipped her arm out of his so that she could take his hand in hers and pull him towards the well. She tripped up the little flight of steps to peer into the well, slightly disappointed to find it covered in mesh for health and safety reasons. Probably to keep the drunkards from the many weddings that the hotel hosted from falling in, she supposed, but still. She turned back to Gold, who'd stayed at the bottom of the steps, watching her with an expression that was, simply put, pure love.

"So," Belle began, before the silence could become all-encompassing. "We're here now."

Gold took Belle's left hand in his and kissed her knuckles.

"I've been waiting for the right moment for months," he said. "And even now, I'm not sure if it's the right moment, what with it still technically being someone else's wedding. But it's also our nine-month anniversary, and we're in a place that looks like something out of a fairytale, and, well, there's no time like the present." He looked up at her from the bottom of the steps, slightly sheepish. "This is about as near to down on one knee as you're going to get from me."

Belle felt her breath catch as Gold leaned his cane carefully against the well to have both hands free, feeling in his inside jacket pocket to pull out a little velvet bag not at all unlike the ones she kept her jewellery in. He reached inside and produced something small, silver and sparkling.

"Belle, you're the most wonderful person I've met, I love you more than I can ever express, and if you agree to be my wife, you'll make me the happiest man alive." He took a deep breath. "Belle French, will you marry me?"

She'd suspected that this might have been what he'd been building up to, but she hadn't dared to hope. She rushed down the steps and threw her arms around Gold, pulling him into a long, languorous kiss.

"So, that's a yes, then?" Gold asked faintly as she finally let him up for air.

"Yes. Oh, yes!"

Belle released her grip on his shoulders to bring her left hand up between them so that Gold could slip the ring onto her finger.

"Perfect fit," she said, peering closely at the ring. It was in the shape of a pair of hands holding a heart -shaped diamond, and Belle was sure she'd seen it somewhere before.

"It was my ma's," Gold said quietly, kissing her fingertips. "She had tiny wee hands, like yours. She wanted you to have it. You can pick out another if you don't like it."

"It's beautiful," Belle breathed, and since words seemed to her to be completely overrated at that moment in time, she settled instead for kissing Gold instead.

She was in love. She was engaged. She was going to marry this wonderful man and spend the rest of her life with him.

Belle's heart, already so full of love and joy from the celebratory day, decided that skipping was overrated, detoured past the triple loop-the-loop, and soared...

* * *

**Belle's ring is a variation on an Irish claddagh, if you wanted to google it and see what it looks like.**

**I know these two chapters are slightly uneven in length, but I wanted to keep them separate. In my cake'verse timeline, I have always had Gold proposing after Emma's wedding, but I didn't want the proposal to detract from the wedding itself, so I split the chapter in two. I hope you enjoyed nonetheless. **


	16. Chocolate Chip Cookie

**Summary: **Gold sees Belle through her divorce. Quite a few people were interested to see this one.

**Note: **I do apologise for the recent lack of cupcakes; my muse has been elsewhere. This offering is slightly shorter than usual but hopefully it should satisfy the tastebuds for a little while until I get back into the groove. There are many more cupcakes in the oven. ;)

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**Chocolate Chip Cookie**

It was rare for Belle not to come over on a Monday evening after she'd finished work. Even after they'd started living together, the Monday-night-Tuesday-morning ritual had remained in place. Yes, it was rare enough that it made Gold wonder if everything was all right as he locked up Guildhall and walked the few steps over the way to collect Belle from the café. He peered through the glass to see her polishing the top of the cake display vigorously, her mind obviously elsewhere. Having spent a few minutes watching her abstraction, Gold decided to knock on the door to get her attention.

The noise made her jump and she dropped the cloth with a little squeal before recovering herself and coming round to let him in.

"If you polish that glass any more, you'll wear a hole in it," he said.

"I know, I know. I…" She paused, defeated. "I was miles away," she said eventually.

And not in a good way, Gold added mentally. Something was worrying her.

He took her hand in his free one and led her over to the bench seating at the back of the café, hidden from view behind a forest of upturned chairs.

"What's up?" he asked once they were sat down together.

Belle sighed and rested her head on his shoulder.

"I…" she began. "I'm divorced. Officially. Absolute came through today." She reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out a heavy, expensive looking cream envelope, taking out the letter inside to hand it to him. Gold had seen hundreds of such letters in his time; his own signature could be found at the bottom of many. He didn't say anything, simply looking at the pretty jargon that was practically meaningless, and waiting for Belle to speak again.

"It's silly really," she said at length as he handed the letter back to her. "I just don't know what to feel. So I've been keeping busy, trying not to feel anything. I'm just numb. Part of me feels like I ought to be happy because that part of my life is over and I can truly draw a line under it and move on. But the rest of me feels like this isn't an occasion that should be celebrated. This is a reminder that something went wrong, something wasn't right. All these people who throw parties when they get divorced…. It seems a bit perverse to me unless you absolutely loathed your spouse. Which I didn't. So I feel sad, because even though I've moved on – I moved on a long time ago – it was still a huge part of my life and it's a shame that it didn't work out. But then I feel guilty about feeling sad about it because I'm so happy with you and I shouldn't be thinking about Gary, and I'm just incredibly confused."

She sighed, and Gold pulled her in closer.

"You feel whatever you want to feel," he said. "There's no right and wrong. There's no handbook for it; there never is. Nothing's changed, in the grander scheme of things. You haven't changed your name. Tomorrow you'll wake up and you'll still be the same person that you were this morning."

"It feels like it should be momentous, life-changing. You know, like I'm walking around with a great big flashing sign above my head saying 'something big has happened'. But it doesn't. Everything's still the same. I had a perfectly ordinary day at work. Nothing's different to yesterday except the fact I'm not legally married anymore."

Gold nodded. "I know what you mean. Nothing's different, but you feel like it ought to be."

Belle paused.

"How did you feel? After yours was finalised?"

"Relief, mainly." Gold sighed. It was so long ago that he'd put it to the back of his mind; it wasn't something that he thought of often. He remembered that it had been a Thursday, when he'd received a letter so much like Belle's, over fifteen years ago now. He'd been in the middle of a complicated case and it hadn't really registered on any kind of deeper level until about a week later. "I was just glad it was all over. Mine wasn't acrimonious, but it had taken a long time and I was glad there was nothing else to do, no more forms to sign or things to negotiate. I mean, it was different for me; there was a house to sell and assets to split and Bae to think about. But yes, mainly I was relieved that the process was over."

Belle fidgeted a little, nestling in closer to his side.

"So what happens now?" she asked.

"Now you just carry on living your life," Gold replied. "You mentioned baking chocolate chip cookies this evening."

Belle laughed, and Gold considered that a suitable small triumph in the grander scheme of things. He could try to help her make sense of her confused emotions, but ultimately only Belle could dictate what she was and wasn't going to feel. But he could be there if she wanted to talk, and if she didn't, and if he could make her smile, then that was a bonus.

"Will you be wanting to sample the mixture?" she asked playfully.

"Don't I always?" Gold growled in response.

"I don't know." Belle sighed. "I'm not sure I'm in the right frame of mind to make cookies tonight."

"Not even the famous giant cookie?"

"That was an accident!" Belle protested. "I didn't know how much the mixture would spread," she added. "That they all ended up sticking together to make one large cookie is in no way my fault at all."

"Imagine what would have happened if you'd actually been intending to make a large, baking-tray shaped cookie," Gold mused. "I dread to think of the possible consequences."

There was a long, companionable silence, broken only by the rustling of paper as Belle turned the letter over and over in her fingers. Finally she seemed to take action, stuffing the paper back into the envelope and putting this in turn back in her apron.

"Right," she said firmly. "That's that. It's done. Over. So let's go home to make chocolate chip cookies and carry on life as normal."

Belle pulled him off the bench seating before going over to get her jacket and switch off the lights. "Where've you parked?"

"Behind the library. Bit of a trek, but it's a mild enough night."

"Why there?" Belle asked, ushering him out of the café door so that she could lock up.

"Fox was entertaining some clients," Gold said drily. "They took all our usual parking spaces. Regina was most put out. Her rage was absolutely beautiful to behold. She didn't say anything, of course; ultimately he's her boss and she'll take the senior partner position when he retires. But her face was a picture. I'm surprised Marina didn't try to capture it on film actually. Oh yes. Fox's retirement can't come a moment too soon for Her Majesty."

Belle slipped her hand round his arm and curled her fingers into the fabric of his jacket.

"How was your day other than Regina nearly exploding in silent rage then?" she asked. Gold gave her a run-down of everything that had happened that day; not much interesting if he was being honest, but he could tell that she wanted her mind taken off their previous conversation with the banalities of everyday life. It was almost as if she wanted to reassure herself that everything really was still the same as it had been the previous day.

Suddenly she stopped dead, pulling him back.

"What is it?"

Belle didn't answer, instead reading a notice in the library window.

"Gold?" she breathed. "Do you believe in fate?"

Gold read the notice. The library was recruiting for a new trainee librarian. He raised an eyebrow at Belle.

"I mean," she continued, "I've been feeling like today should be a turning point all day, and maybe it is. Maybe, as one door closes…" She pressed her hand against her apron pocket where her decree absolute resided.

"…another one opens," Gold finished for her.

"What do you think?" Belle asked.

"Go for it," Gold said simply. "You've got nothing to lose."

Belle smiled up at him, the first genuine smile that he had seen from her all evening. It was a turning point in her life, there could be no doubt of that, and it was an emotional rollercoaster. Everything had changed and everything was still the same, and it was a confusing journey that her feelings were going on. But this was something new, something positive that she could focus on as she let go of her past once and for all. The divorce signalled the absolute end of something. Now, this could be the beginning of something new.


	17. Whiskey Cake

**Note: **PRAISE BE! Series two has officially begun on TV here in the UK. AT LAST! In honour of the occasion, have a cupcake.

**Summary: **Gold asks Moe for Belle's hand in marriage. Again, a lot of people wanted to see this one!

* * *

**Whiskey Cake**

Gold sat in the driver's seat of the black BMW, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and wishing he could open the bottle of Glenmorangie in the glove box for a little Dutch courage. He was parked outside a respectable-looking semi-detached house some hundred miles away from his own home, and he was waiting for the right moment. He'd been waiting for the right moment for a good twenty minutes now, and no doubt the neighbours were starting to wonder what in God's name he was doing.

He was seriously considering giving up and going back to Devon. After all, he and Belle were both consenting adults. It wasn't as if they couldn't get married without Moe's permission; it wasn't as if he needed to ask for the keys to her chastity belt.

No, Gold told himself crossly. He was going to do this properly.

Asking a man for his daughter's hand in marriage never got any easier, no matter how much experience one had. He'd never admit it, but he'd nearly fainted before facing up to his first father-in-law-to-be. It had taken him several attempts to speak to Liz's father, the first few failing because he had got blind drunk beforehand and said would-be fiancée had had to take him home to sleep it off before he could embarrass himself. By the time he had actually got through the meeting in one piece, Liz had been left in no doubt of what he had been trying to achieve. At least this time, downing the whiskey was absolutely not an option, but there were still at least twenty different ways in which he could make a fool of himself. Gold tried to rationalise. On the one hand, he was twenty-six years older and wiser now than he had been then. He had a respectable career, rather than being just out of training, earning a fraction of his current salary and living above a dry-cleaners. On the other hand…

He was still rehearsing what he was going to say once he actually left the car when a knock on the passenger window startled him. Gold tuned to see Moe French peering through the passenger window with a look that was partly confused, partly amused, and partly reserving judgement.

On the other hand, Moe was about a foot taller than he was, and infinitely broader, and he was holding a pair of secateurs that were rather sharp looking. Gold opened the window.

"Good morning, Mr French," he said, as brightly as he could manage, which, he admitted, wasn't that much.

"Where's Belle?" Moe asked. He peered into the car, looking at the boot rather suspiciously as if he expected to hear his daughter's muffled screams for help.

"She's on a library training course all week," Gold said.

"Did she send you with a message?" Moe asked drily.

"She, erm, doesn't know I'm here," Gold admitted. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell her."

Moe raised an eyebrow. "Right… Gold, you've been parked outside my house talking to yourself for nearly half an hour. D'you want to come in?"

Not really, Gold thought to himself. He was nice and safe and not likely to be castrated with a pair of secateurs if he was in his car. He could very easily stick it in reverse and run away at the first sign of violence on Moe's part. On the other hand, he was never going to get anywhere if he simply fled the scene in panic like he was tempted to do, and the idea of having to make the entire journey again was not a particularly favourable one.

So he let go of the steering wheel, took his foot off the clutch and, however reluctantly, got out of the car, bringing the whiskey with him. He followed Moe into the house that had been Belle's childhood home, and took the offered seat at the kitchen table.

"Now, in my experience," Moe began, "men normally only visit their girlfriends' fathers without their knowledge for one of two reasons. Since Belle's already had her birthday and Christmas is still over six months away, I doubt it's the 'please help me plan a surprise for her' option. So I'm assuming it's the other option. Then again, you and Belle could never be accused of being normal. So tell me, are you here for the reason I think you're here for?"

Gold took a deep breath to try and avoid his words coming out as one long, incomprehensible jumble and being made to repeat himself.

"I would like your permission to marry your daughter, Mr French."

"I thought that's why you were here." Moe put a cup of tea down in front of Gold and exchanged the whiskey for the sugar bowl. He unsealed the cap and took a sniff of the spirit. "Good stuff, this. Excellent choice for a bribe." He added a dash to his own mug and sat down opposite Gold.

Gold, who never normally took sugar in tea, added three spoonfuls for want of something to do with his nervous fingers. He held the older man's gaze, willing him to say something. Anything. At this point he'd take a flat out refusal over the heavy silence that was gradually enveloping the room. The silence was the worst part. Gold knew human nature; he'd said as much to Moe on the first occasion that they met, by accident. He knew that silence in circumstances such as these was not necessarily a good thing.

"Well, my answer really depends," Moe said levelly.

"On what?" Gold managed, rather glad when the words didn't come out as the squeak they could have done.

"On whether or not your intentions are honourable." Moe calmly sipped his tea. "You know Belle's been married before. And you know the circumstances that led to her very short engagement."

Gold nodded, unsure where this was going.

"Gary married Belle because he felt – well, his family felt – that in the circumstances it was the honourable thing to do," Moe continued. "And it was. It was the honourable thing to do. But not necessarily the best thing. We all found that out with hindsight. So, Gold, my question to you is, are your intentions honourable, or good? Because I've learned my lesson, and I won't allow Belle to be coerced into wedlock if she doesn't think it's a good idea, no matter how honourable the intent is. It ruined her life once, and it won't happen again."

Gold finally found his voice, which had been hiding in the back of his throat somewhere during Moe's grave speech.

"Belle's not pregnant," he blurted out, and immediately regretted it. Not subtle, Gold, not subtle… However blunt, the words did seem to make Moe relax slightly. Gold took a deep breath and continued. He felt that at this moment in time, less was more, and the less he talked, the more likely he was to succeed instead of metaphorically putting his foot in it, so he chose his words carefully.

"I want to marry her because I want to marry her, not because I have to marry her."

Moe frowned and waved the secateurs, which he had not let go of once during their exchange.

"If you hurt her, I will hunt you down with the most painful gardening implements I can find and you'll never look at a T-handled dibber in the same way again," he said.

"Understood," Gold replied weakly. "But you'll have to fight my aunt for castration rights, she's already threatened me once." Moe gave a snort of laughter and with it the tension in the room began to break. "Mr French, I love Belle and want to spend the rest of my life with her. That's pretty much it."

Moe sighed and sipped his laced tea.

"Belle and I have always been close," he said. "I know her inside out, or I like to think I do. She can certainly read me as easily as one of her books. I have to say it, she's more alive with you than she ever was with Gary." He laughed again. "Really, I'm the last person who should judge. I know exactly how you're feeling. I had it worse, I was only six years younger than my prospective father-in-law." He reached across, holding out his hand. "Welcome to the family."

Gold shook it and took a gulp of tea to calm his nerves. He was instantly reminded of why he didn't take sugar and grimaced, looking longingly at the whiskey standing on the table between them. He'd forgotten what Belle had said, way back on their first date – there was the same age gap between them as there had been between her own parents. He mentally kicked himself for worrying that Moe would baulk at the idea of a middle-aged man wanting his beautiful young daughter.

It hadn't been so bad. It could certainly have been an awful lot worse.

Now all he had to do was ask Belle.

* * *

**You are welcome to Google a T-handled dibber to see precisely why and how one could be painful…**


	18. Ice Cream Cake

**Note: **I do apologise for the lack of cupcakes again. I've just moved for the third time since Christmas and I've not had a mind to write due to stress. And, I've only just got the Internet in my new place, so it's taken a while. But here I am again!

**Summary: **An unexpected incident occurs on Belle's last day at the café, for an anonymous reviewer who wanted to see Belle and Gold get locked in the fridge at Granny's, and Hermitess on AO3, who wanted to know what Granny's advice from the Carrot Cake epilogue was. Warning – the higher end of the T spectrum, some sex references and innuendo throughout.

* * *

**Ice Cream Cake**

Belle's last day at the café before beginning her new job at the library had gone remarkably well until six o'clock. August had made a little poster that was taped up in the window. _Congratulations Belle_, it read, and she had seen a flush of pride on seeing it. _This is Belle's last day with us here at Granny's before she enters the wide world of library services. Please pop in to join us in wishing her all the best in her career. Signed, Granny, Ruby, Emma and August. _She had received several well-wishers who had bought an awful lot of cake, and all in all, she could say that the day had been a success, and whilst she would miss the café and the regulars and the constant banter with Ruby and Emma, Belle knew that she was only moving round the corner, and they would still see each other with alarming regularity.

So Belle's last day at the café had gone remarkably well until six o'clock, when she had found herself unceremoniously locked in the fridge with only the cheese and her lover for company. Gold had come to collect her and had been told by Ruby that she was in the fridge taking stock. Gold had come in to find her, and they had, by some means as yet unknown, been locked in.

Belle, personally, suspected that Ruby had been behind it, and voiced this thought to Gold, even though the other waitress had seemed most repentant when she had asked them through the door if they were all right and had told them not to go anywhere and to hang on until she'd run home to get the spare key from Granny.

"Ruby's been wanting to do this ever since you first turned up," Belle said, her teeth chattering. "I'm not quite sure what she hopes to achieve now, months down the line. She'd always intended to force us to share body heat and in doing so get us to admit our mutual attraction. Since we are now living together and share body heat on a regular basis, I'm not sure what she's going to get out of it now."

Gold wrapped his jacket around her and rubbed her back to try and warm her up.

"Maybe it's because she knows that she's unlikely to ever have the opportunity to lock us in the fridge again?" he suggested. "Or maybe it really was an accident."

"Hmmm." Belle remained unconvinced. "Oh well. We're stuck in here now. How was your day? Has Philip settled in yet.?

"Oh yes. He seems to have taken quite a shine to Dawn, actually." Gold smiled fondly, no doubt at the memory of his new trainee's first meeting with the other young would-be lawyer who worked out of Guildhall. "They'll be hiding under their desks from me together in no time at all."

"You know, something tells me that it is your influence that causes the people around you to hide under their desks," Belle mused. "First Dawn, now Philip."

Gold's reply was non-committal, and he grimaced as he shifted his weight. Belle frowned; it had been barely perceptible unless one had been looking for it, but she had been looking for it. In the last few weeks of living in close proximity, Belle had learned the little tells that showed Gold was in pain, even if he didn't say anything.

"Is it playing up again?" she asked, nodding towards his knee. Gold nodded.

"The cold in here's not helping," he admitted, "but I've been aching all day."

Belle sighed. There were only so many times that the doctors would increase the strength of his prescription, and it seemed that the situation was only getting worse. She didn't like to think of the day when… Belle shook her head and pushed the idea to the back of her mind. Today was a time for celebrating a new phase of her life about to start, not for foreboding thoughts of things that were yet to come.

"Come on," she said brightly, grabbing his arm and pulling him over to the stepladder that she had been standing on to take stock. "Sit down and I'll see if I can't help you out."

Gold did as bid and Belle knelt down between his knees, earning her a raised eyebrow for her troubles. Belle merely rolled her eyes in response and began to press her fingertips into his kneecap, trying to alleviate the dull ache there. She could feel the scar tissue even through his suit trousers, and she sighed inwardly, a sigh that couldn't help turning into a giggle when Gold gave a heartfelt and rather guttural groan of relief. She wondered what it sounded like to the people on the other side of the cold room door. Gold seemed to catch her train of thought.

"What will Granny say when she unlocks the door and comes in to find you on your knees in front of me like this?" he asked.

"She'll probably just leave us to it and tell me to mind her old advice," Belle said. She increased the pressure of her fingertips on his knee and Gold gave a grunt of appreciation.

"Ah yes, Granny Lucas's old advice. I remember. The night of the ball. You never did tell me what it was."

Belle grinned up at him.

"Thankfully, I've never had to put it into practice," she purred.

"I still want to know," Gold said. "I should like to be… prepared."

Belle pressed a kiss to his knee.

"Granny Lucas's old advice to young ladies embarking upon a relationship in the boudoir," she began, "is never to put your mouth between a man's legs unless he's prepared to return the favour."

"Right." Gold's eyebrows shot to his hairline for a moment. "Well, I don't think we need worry about that one."

"Oh no, dear. I did say I'd never needed to put it into practice." Belle fell silent, and gradually her fingers stilled. "Better?"

Gold nodded, and glanced over at the door.

"How long do you think it'll take for Ruby to get us out of here?" he asked.

Belle shrugged.

"I don't know. At least we know that we aren't going to die of starvation."

Gold opened his mouth to reply but Belle held up a hand to stop him, cocking her head on one side to listen. She felt a wicked little grin spread over her features unbidden as she heard footsteps and voices from outside the café, and metal fumbling in locks as someone opened the main café door.

"I think Granny and Ruby are here," she said.

"Fantastic," Gold replied. "Let's get out of here and get warm."

But as the footsteps entered the café, Belle quickly realised that whoever had opened the door was not coming to rescue them. Her brow furrowed, but her grin remained in place.

"Someone's trying to break into the till," she whispered to Gold.

"And you're smiling because?"

"Because they aren't going to succeed."

Gold raised an eyebrow.

"Belle, how on earth are you going to stop them when you're locked in a fridge?" he hissed.

"Well, to start with, Ruby's already emptied the till for the evening and the money's in the safe. And secondly…"

Belle assumed as demure an expression as she could muster, and then let out a breathy scream.

"Yes! Yes! Oh, yes, harder, yes, yes, YES!"

Gold just looked at her as if she'd gone utterly mad, before the same expression came over his face, and he joined in her cacophony with the broad brogue she only ever really heard in the bedroom. Although not usually quite so _loudly_.

She wasn't quite sure how long they carried on their masquerade before she deemed it time to quieten down.

"Have we scared them off yet?" Gold whispered.

Belle listened.

"I think so."

They stayed silent for a few moments, and Belle jumped out of her skin as there came a sharp rap on the door.

"Are you two quite finished?" asked Granny's voice.

Belle burst out laughing.

"Well, to be honest, we never actually got started, Mrs Lucas," Gold called. "Please let us out, I'm freezing and my knee's seized up."

"Have you gone stiff?" Ruby's voice asked, barely masking her giggling.

Gold rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to grace that with a reply, Ruby."

The door scraped open and Belle found herself face to face with Granny, who was looking unimpressed, with Ruby doing an uncanny Cheshire cat impression beside her. Graham was standing outside the café talking to a young man in black who was looking extremely shellshocked.

"Well, at least you caught a petty thief into the bargain," Granny said.

"Oh, the expression on his face was priceless," Ruby said, gesturing towards the would-be burglar. "We came in to find him standing behind the till just gawping in the direction of the fridge. I think you've scarred him for life. It really was beautiful to behold." She paused. "You know, you two have just given me an excellent idea for a new burglar alarm system."

"Although if I find any evidence of you going _in flagrante_ behind the tomatoes," Granny continued, "there will be hell to pay. Not only is it unhygienic, I do not take kindly to having my stock destroyed in moments of passion. Remember, chocolate frosting might seem like a good idea at the time, but believe me, cleaning up afterwards is a nightmare."

Belle and Ruby burst out laughing as Gold shook his head in despair. Thankfully, he had got used to Granny and Ruby, or Belle might have been worried for the effect that such comments would have had on him.

The thief outside, however, merely whimpered on catching this tail end of the conversation. Belle had to smile at his discomfiture. Perhaps being locked in the fridge had its benefits after all.


	19. Brandy Snap

**Note: **Ok, this one came into my head fully formed as a direct result of watching S2 Ep6 'Tallahassee'. I hereby blame Neal Cassidy for this chapter. Entirely.

**Summary: **Emma meets someone unexpected from her past and learns that the whole 'six degrees of separation' thing might have some truth in it.

* * *

**Brandy Snap**

Never in the history of time, thought Emma, had the act of turning round been so powerful as to completely flip one's world on its head. One minute she was standing by the coffee machine and everything was well. The next she was standing at the counter and she didn't know what to do, say or think. She was only continuing to breathe because she was so used to the habit that it was automatic.

The only good thing to come of the situation was that the person on the other side of the counter looked as shocked as she surely did.

"Emma?"

Emma gave a curt nod.

"Hello, Neal. What can I get for you?" she asked, trying to keep the astonishment out of her voice and sound at least semi-professional.

It didn't work.

"I, erm, cappuccino to take away, please." There was a long pause as Emma rang it up with shaking fingers. "So… how are you?"

"Great, thank you." Emma turned back to the coffee machine, taking her time. It was easier when she didn't have to look at him. Of all the blasts from the past to turn up in Granny's, why had it had to be Neal sodding Cassidy who'd walked into the café? "How are you?"

"I'm good."

"Are you local now?" Emma asked lightly. _Please say no_, she thought. _Please don't say I'm going to start bumping into you on a regular basis. And please, please don't say that you're here because Henry tracked you down online._ "That's two-ten," she added as she handed over the cardboard cup.

Neal shook his head as he gave her his money and Emma counted out his change.

"No, I'm just passing through. Like always really."

Emma managed a thin-lipped smile.

"Emma, I… I don't know what to say."

He fumbled with the plastic takeaway lid, prising it off and pushing it back on. It was a nervous tic of his; he'd had it when they'd first met. He was always taking lids off and putting them back on. Emma sighed and forced herself to behave like a rational adult when every other instinct in her brain was screaming at her to shout and rant and rave at this man, this man who had left her with barely a word and with a baby to boot.

"There's nothing to say, Neal. It was ten years ago. You've moved on. I've moved on. I'm married, I have a son." _Your son_, she added mentally. "We're different people. It happens."

"I guess," Neal said, eventually taking a sip of his coffee. "Crumbs, Emma, of all the people to bump into. It's been a while."

"Ten years," Emma repeated. "A lot's happened in that time."

A small part of her wanted to ask, wanted to know what in God's name he'd thought he was doing when he had left that morning and never come back. When she'd phoned him to find out where the hell he was, having expected to see him three hours prior, he had explained, in a rather distracted voice, that it was complicated and he couldn't explain it, and he wouldn't be back for a while. After two months of ringing and getting no answer, Emma had given up waiting for another explanatory phone call, accepted he'd found a better deal than a waitress just out of the care system, and vowed to be the best single mother she could be.

And now, here he was. Ten years later, looking exactly the same, and Emma was lost for words. Neal sighed.

"I should have explained," he continued.

_Yes, you should have_, Emma's brain snapped, but she said nothing, just shrugging in a gesture that she hoped conveyed 'well, I got on just fine without you, thank you very much.'

"It was complicated," Neal went on, echoing his words of a decade ago. "Everything happened at once , and I had to go away for a while, and we hadn't really known each other all that long, so I didn't want you to get dragged into it all, it was a messy business."

_You'd known me long enough to get me pregnant and hear me say 'I love you'_, Emma's mind supplied helpfully. She pushed it down, focusing on keeping a clear head, just listening to Neal's patter of explanations and excuses. He was not the love of her life – that was Graham, and Emma was wondrously happy with her husband. But Neal was her _first_ love, and the father of her child, and as such, she was always reminded of him in their son and could never truly forget him. Not that she would trade Henry for the world.

Emma found herself desperately wishing for another customer to come in, preferably a regular that she could strike up a conversation with and force Neal to move on, and her wish was answered when she heard Gold's voice come through the door, his instantly recognisable brogue bemoaning the miserable state of the weather.

"Afternoon, Emma, I…" His voice faltered as Emma and Neal looked over at him.

Gold looked as if he'd seen a ghost. So did Neal; the younger man startled visibly. There was a moment of intense stillness and silence whilst the two men looked at each other.

"Mr Gold, I…" Neal began, but Gold shook his head.

"Don't, Mr Cassidy," he said softly. "Please don't. Nothing you can say will make this moment any easier, so please, don't say anything."

Neal gave a small nod and turned back to Emma. "Bye, Emma. It was nice to see you again."

"Goodbye, Neal."

Gold waited until the door had closed behind Neal before hooking his cane over the top of the cake display and leaning both hands on the counter heavily.

"Of all the people to bump into," he murmured, and if Emma hadn't been listening for it, she wouldn't have heard the quaver in his voice that matched her own.

"Is everything all right out here?" August asked on coming out of the kitchen to find Emma and Gold in a similar stance on either side of the counter, both looking as if the polished wood was the only thing keeping them upright.

"Emma and I've had a bit of a shock," Gold said. "We need a sit down and a cup of tea."

"I'll get you some chamomile," August said faintly.

"A wee drop of brandy in it wouldn't go amiss," Gold added. "Come on, Emma. Let's sit down before you fall down."

Wordlessly, Emma nodded and came out from behind the counter, letting Gold lead her over to a table out of the way in one corner.

"Old client?" she asked, although the jest wasn't even half-hearted and it was in fairly poor taste considering Gold's reaction to the younger man. He shook his head.

"We met in court, yes, but not in a professional capacity."

Suddenly, Emma realised. "When he said he had to go away for a while…" She felt a trickle of ice run down her spine as the pieces of a puzzle that had eluded her for ten years suddenly began to fall into place, the clue being in that single moment of interaction between Neal and Gold.

"When he said he had to go away for a while," she repeated. "He meant it literally, didn't he? He was in prison. He was the driver who killed your son."

Gold gave a curt nod.

"He was sentenced to two years for causing death by dangerous driving; I've no idea how long he actually served," he said quietly. "Yes, he was responsible for Bae's death."

August brought over the tea at this point, apologising that there wasn't any brandy. He hovered for a moment to check that neither of them was likely to faint then tactfully withdrew to leave them to their obviously private and sensitive conversation.

"Oh God…" Emma rested her head in her hands. "I didn't, I just, I… He's Henry's father," she finished weakly.

"I'm sorry," Gold said. "I shouldn't have…"

"I'm sorry; I brought it up," Emma cut him off. "I hadn't had any contact with him since before Henry was born, before I even knew I was having Henry." She looked up. "Do you think I should have told him? Neal, I mean. He's got a son, and I never told him. I mean, I never wanted anything from Neal, I've always got on fine without him, but isn't it a parent's right to know their child? You know about this legal kind of thing; do I have to tell him? And Henry's never shown any interest in wanting to know about his father… Crumbs, what do I tell Henry?"

"Emma… Emma!"

Gold's voice broke her out of her chaotic spiral of thought.

"If Henry wants to know, then you just tell him the truth," he said. "It's the most honourable thing to do."

Emma blinked. It was such a deceptively simple answer. If Henry wanted to know, she would tell him, and if he didn't, she wouldn't. As for Neal… Emma sighed. It was unlikely that she was ever going to see him again now. He had always been a drifter, never staying in one place for too long, and he had said that he was just passing through. Perhaps it was fate that had caused them to meet like this today; fate that had pulled her and Gold and Neal together. After all, if August had been working the till, if Gold had sent Ashley in to get his tea, it would never have happened. Just chance.

"Em."

Emma turned to see August gesturing towards the clock. It was time for her to finish her shift and pick up Henry from school. She took off her apron.

"Thanks, Mr Gold."

"Thank you, dear." He drained his tea and made to leave the café as well, giving a small snort of hollow laughter. "It's a small world after all."

Emma was still lost in thought when she pulled up outside Henry's school and her son jumped into the passenger seat.

"Mum?" he asked on seeing her so abstracted. "Are you ok?"

"Yes, sorry, fine, I'm fine. How was your day?"

Henry chattered on happily until they reached home. Graham's car was already in the drive, he must have clocked off his shift early having put in overtime last week, and the thought made Emma smile. She would tell him what had happened later, but for now, she felt she had to clear the air with Henry – even if the boy didn't realise anything was different.

"Henry…"

"Yes, Mum?"

"You know, if you ever want to know about your father, you can ask, right? I will tell you."

Henry nodded.

"I know. I've just never thought it was important. I mean, we've always got on fine just the two of us, and as far as I'm concerned, Graham's my dad now."

Emma was so happy she could have cried, but she fought back the urge and hugged her son instead.

"Oh, Henry, you're remarkable."

Henry grinned.

"I know, I'm awesome. Now let's go inside, I'm starving."

Emma smiled as she watched Henry race up towards the front door, which Graham opened before the boy could careen into it. It had been an emotional afternoon, but as long as she had Henry and Graham, Emma knew she could cope with anything.


	20. Cherry Cake

**Note:** I apologise for my recent lack of cupcakes; my writing zen has been elsewhere, I'm afraid. I swear I am going to get round to writing everyone's prompts, thank you for sending me them, they are in the pipeline.

In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this little offering (a mini cupcake, if you will), to soothe the tastebuds for a while.

As always in my AU's, **Cara Mallory** is the name I give **Maleficent**, from Carabosse in the Sleeping Beauty ballet. And to reaffirm, all my AU's are set in the UK as it's easier for me to write about my home country.

**Summary: **Gold gets a surprise whilst working in London one summer's day.

* * *

**Cherry Cake**

Gold didn't like the capital at the best of times, but the capital in mid-summer was even worse, and the capital in mid-summer in the middle of an unanticipated heat-wave was pretty much unbearable. It was not often that he had to come to London for a case, but this was one of those rare occasions. One of his cases had gone to appeal, and as such, he and Philip were ensconced in an increasingly stuffy courtroom in the Royal Courts of Justice, watching the barristers thrash it out between them and trying not to roast alive. Gold had to admit, his new trainee was bearing up remarkably well, all things considered, especially when the first major case he worked on had ended up going cataclysmic through no fault of his own.

The judge adjourned the case for lunch and the occupants of the courtroom began to file out. Philip sank down in his seat with a groan and began to half-heartedly fan himself with his case file. There was a laugh and a rustle of black fabric as Cara twisted in her seat on the bench in front of them. Cara Mallory was Guildhall's 'tame barrister' as she liked to be known. If any of the solicitors' cases ended up in the highest London courts, it was generally Cara whom they called upon to do the honours of representing their clients where they could not. Gold liked Cara, he found her down to earth and thoroughly capable, and she shared his often morbid sense of humour. Sidney had said that she and Regina had studied law together and been good friends and university at one point, although the relationship was now most definitely soured, and neither woman would reveal exactly what went wrong.

"So far, so good?" Cara ventured.

"Apart from the fact I'm melting," Philip groaned. "Let's get out of here and get some fresh air."

"This is London, Philip," Gold pointed out as he shuffled his notes and papers into order. "There hasn't been fresh air here since about 1700."

"You know what I mean." Philip slipped off his jacket and loosened his tie. "Gold, how the hell can you be wearing a three piece suit and double-cuff shirt in this weather?"

"Practice?" Gold ventured. Philip narrowed his eyes and turned to Cara.

"And you," he added, eyeing her horsehair wig and black gown. "Why aren't you doing an impression of a broiled lobster?"

"Ah, you've a lot to learn, young one," Cara said. "I'm naked under this gown."

Philip spluttered. "What?"

"Ask Gold."

"Do you mind, Miss Mallory? I have a fiancée."

"Just teasing," Cara said. "It is just practice, Phil. You get used to it. I have a coolpack in my handbag to stick under my wig in case of emergencies though. What? I've seen high court judges do it! Speaking of the fiancée, though, Gold, this is a new development. Since when have you had a fiancée, and who's the poor woman mad enough to agree to marry you?"

"Her name is Belle. We've been engaged a month."

"Ah, young love." Cara smiled. "I sure she's thinking of you, getting all hot and bothered in here…"

It was Gold's turn to splutter slightly.

"Right," he said gruffly, giving his junior a glare when Philip had the audacity to snigger. "You can snigger, young man, but I've seen the way you look at Miss Stephens. Outside, lunch, 'fresh' air and we'll meet back here at half-twelve to discuss the plan for this afternoon."

Ten minutes later found Gold sitting in a blissfully cold, air-conditioned deli, dreading the moment when he'd have to step outside into the veritable furnace that was Aldwych again. Presently his phone buzzed with the arrival of a message. It was from Jefferson.

_How's court?_

_Soul-destroying_, Gold replied.

A few moments later, Jefferson responded.

_That good, huh?_

_It must be at least 35 degrees in that room._

_Ah_, was Jefferson's reply, closely followed by _well, it's your own fault for wearing a full suit in this weather. I came into the office in shorts this morning._

Gold's brow furrowed.

_I thought you were on holiday?_

_I am. Forgot my sunglasses last night. _

Gold rolled his eyes, but before he could respond, Jefferson sent him another message: _I've got something that will cheer you up for the afternoon session._

_Not another one of your 'Snow White, Cinderella and Red Riding Hood walk into a bar' jokes. I've already lost the will to live. _

_You wound me, Mr Gold! No, I'm bringing Grace to London this afternoon to see The Lion King at the Lyceum. Meet me outside the court at the end of session and I'll bring you a surprise._

Gold raised an eyebrow. He wanted to reply, but it was time to return to the court. He would just have to see what Jefferson brought.

X

Gold stepped out of the court buildings and gave a cursory glance around, finding Jefferson nowhere. Too hot and tired to try searching for the man, he cut his losses and rang him.

"_Evening, Gold."_

"All right, I'm outside. Where are you?"

"_I'm in a restaurant on Northumberland Avenue with Grace."_

"So you were lying about bringing me a surprise."

"_For an extremely well-paid and intelligent lawyer who did post-grad at Cambridge, you aren't half dense at times. Your surprise is there. Bottom step, wrapped up with a pink bow."_

Gold looked down and caught a glimpse of a pale pink bow fluttering in the breeze, a pale pink bow tied into a very familiar mass of chestnut curls.

"Belle?" he called in disbelief.

She turned and waved, beaming up at him beatifically.

"_Oh ye of little faith,"_ came Jefferson's voice in his ear. _"I sincerely hope your hotel has air-conditioning."_

The call cut off and Gold made his way down the steps towards Belle.

"Jefferson gave me a lift," she said by way of greeting, slipping her arms around his middle. "I know you don't like London, so I thought you'd appreciate a friendly face in the big, scary capital."

Gold laughed and kissed her. She tasted of sunshine and cherry lip balm.

"Oh for God's sake, get a room. It's hot enough already without you two ratcheting up the temperature another couple of degrees"

Gold broke away from Belle and saw Cara grinning at them. She turned to Belle.

"He's been roasting alive in that courtroom all afternoon," she whispered conspiratorially. "I'd get him out of all those clothes as soon as possible, if I were you." She wrinkled her nose. "He could probably use a shower as well."

She fixed Gold with a 'butter wouldn't melt' expression and turned on her heel. "See you tomorrow, Gold. Enjoy your evening."

Gold shook his head on despair, but Belle just laughed and captured his lips again.

Hmm. Maybe he could grow to love the capital in a heat wave after all.


End file.
